The Grass Fights for the Sky

Sheath the knife, you blame me for standing idly by. Drawing swords and fighting, you blame me for not distinguishing between good and evil. But you keep silent about what is good and what is evil. Now that I have become a demon, you curse me to hell. But how can hell let go of my sins? What happens to the world and all sentient beings has nothing to do with me. I only fight for myself. Even if there are abyss on all sides, I have one knife which is enough.