I've grown weary of battle,
my arms ache from holding my sword,
Against the enemy,
which has massed like a horde,
There is only darkness,
I can't see the light,
You will learn,
I have not yet begun to fight.
I stand tall once more,
my sword posed to swing,
I see on my hand,
a memory,
a ring,
I think to myself, "This is a glorious day,"
When I realize,
there are more enemy to slay.
EDIT: Copyright 2010, OSS Spy. Which means you can NOT take this poem and use it as your own, even if you give me full credit.
Which is to say I wish it could, but these people wont leave no matter how much I beg.
27-Feb-2010 23:33:20
- Last edited on
27-Feb-2010 23:37:00
by
Oss Spy