Disclaimer: I don't own BlackWarGreymon.

In the night I ponder

My purpose, my meaning.

"Why was I made?"

I ask.

"What is my purpose?"

I wonder.

"And most of all,

Do I have a heart?"

I was made to destroy.

But it makes me feel


My purpose is to kill

But it makes me hurt inside.

I cannot have a heart

Because I am not real.

But on some nights

When the moon is full

I think and I wonder

"Could my destiny

Lie elsewhere?"

"Could I have a purpose

Other than destruction?"

"Could I, after all,

Have a heart?"

But then I realize

It is all pointless conjecture.

I am death incarnate.

I am the embodiment of destruction.

I am a soulless killer.



I am not real.

I have no heart.

And a single tear falls to the ground.