True Soldier
This world is rotten
True Chivalry is forgotten
I am the last of my kind
a man of heart among fools of minds
Loneliness comes like a blade
Destroying all I've made
To instill fears
Taking away years
But I will not die
and I will not cry
But will I ever see
what I am supposed to be
What is my worth in gold?
Am I truly this cold?
Does my heart grow icier each year?
Or is this another paranoia-induced fear?
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