Author's Notes: This is a poem of what Zero could have felt before sealing himself away fo 100 is a bit angsty and it took me some time to write. These two elements usually mean that I succeeded in a poem. But I don't know, you decide.

Hands of A Killer

Hands stained with blood
Soul stained with death
Spirit haunted by grief
Mind haunted by threat

Blinded by desire
Blinded by lust
All led to nothing
All turned to dust

Lifted up by love
Lifted up by passion
Brought down by violence
Brought down by harrasion

It seems useless to go on
It seems useless to live
I'm unable to move
I'm unable to forgive

Your eyes colored by love
Your eyes colored by fate
Why do I only feel empty?
Why do I only feel hate?

I need a reason, ok?
I need a reason, please?
This all has to stop
This all has to cease