I feel alive
Only when I’m fighting.
They tell me I’m too confident,
Bah! Fools, all of them.
My blade spins, a whirling
circle of light, turning
and twisting, the silver
holding hands with crimson
that rushes forth.
Even my shield, when I’m forced
to use such a useless thing,
is a part of my unstoppable
offense.
I feel more than mortal,
Humans being ants in front of me.
Their lives hurl by in a flash of light and sound,
I pay them no regard.
My two blades, twirling to meet flesh,
coaxing out red blood, giving me the
power, making me a force of
pure rage.
I look my prey in the eyes,
sensing the fear.
I spring forward, he falls back,
and my blade ends him.
Another one, another fool?
Who is he to challenge me?
I give a confident smirk,
knowing his life will soon be
cut short.
I step forth, and slip on a loose
pebble, slick with mist.
Shock invades my mind.
My wrist hits the ground,
Snap!, It breaks.
My sword falling forward,
a shield my savior,
if only I had one.
The man steps forward,
Spits, and ends it all,
With a single swipe of his sword.
My mistakes…
My arrogance…
I leave this world, and I see myself cast in cold, stark reality.
May I find a more humble beginning, in this warm place
of endings.
Comments
May I find a more humble beginning, in this warm place
of endings.
This speaks to me. Very, very cool.
@Wu I was thinking of those type of flaws to explore in poetry, and overconfidence just seemed like the natural one. Thanks!
Aruzzel...........
Good poem, Lyall.