Warrior
As he stood before an open field
Which once had been divided
Arms too tired to raise his shield
Or the sword he was provided…
Leather straps across his back
All soaked in his own blood
Slowly change from brown to black
As dead men lay in flood…
Some of them were honest men
But had no choice to fight
For power never wield by them
By those imposing might…
But what about the child he sees
Abandoned in the distance
The son of his dead enemy
Who’d kill him in an instant…
But the warrior takes his hand
And dressed it with his ring
So he would oneday claim the land
That was stolen by his king…
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