A Question of Trust (Qrow/Oz)

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Written by Qrow, to Oz.


Have you forgotten whose heart you own?

Or have they all been leases on feelings,

easily discarded amidst a reeling grief?

Useful only when used,

begging to be disabused of the concept of self;

Blurring the line between the desires you drive,

and the vessels in which you thrive.


Have we ceased to be friends, or trust?

Have we ever? Ask I must.

Are your schemes and secrets

still worth the dreams and regrets,

the many left dead, the tragedies ahead,

and the words left unsaid?


When you place lies as like leeches,

claimed cure which you teach us,

to control and mislead,

siphoning energy you need

to succeed in her defeat...

and at last to be freed.


I still want to believe.

I still grasp loosely onto the railing and scaffolding,

built to support the non-existent plans for victory.

There must be a way. There must be an end.

Relics be damned and gods chased away.


When all the night's a murder,

when all days are filled with terror,

when all are looking for the answers,

and all that's found are errors;

When the light that shines last hope

turns out a different color,

do I instead turn back to darkness,

in my choices do I have no other?


When the base of my very purpose

has been eaten by your deceiving,

with truth I stemmed the blood-loss,

and saved trust from frenzied feeding.

As lain bare now is your motive,

your own tragedy for all to see;

Can I find within myself the strength,

to once again believe?

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