• Tears of a broken knight,
    Fall upon his fallen, broken, shattered sword.

    Covered with gore of those he does not know,
    He cries out with a pain more than of those he had cut down with his sword.

    A pain so great, a pain so strong,
    Rips away his throbbing heart.

    All are gone,
    None are to come back.

    This sword, this blood,
    This unholy massacre.

    He once thought so long ago,
    That the battlefield and sword were that of a fierce brave man.

    Now he knows, the sword, the ax, the ground, the blood,
    That is shed is shed by men who had a family, but now no more.

    He looks at his fallen sword in the bloody mud,
    And knows that the title of solder and justice are really the mask from which sneers hate.

    Brothers, fathers, cousins, long time friends,
    They all lay in jumbled messes of unnecessary hate.

    He cries at what he’s done,
    Now covered in grime of war and the tears of horrible fate.

    What have I done he wishes to cry,
    His sword he had once thought so fine, he now wish to hide under the fiery flames of hell.

    Now he knows what it means to be a solder,
    A solder is the one that snaps at the heels of death to get him running to a destination not ment to be found until much later in the night.

    Tears of a broken knight,
    Fall upon his fallen sword.