Against all odds the single soldier stands, sword drawn weapon in hand
The enemy circles in clusters of hate, stopping the warrior from reaching the Gate
He strives forward this mighty man, He needs to succeed for the light to expand
The fight is brutal long and gruelling, with a valiant heart He wont be failing
The mass lashes out with whips and chains, as He retorts with equalled pain
Step by step He creeps forward, slaying His foes with heavy remorse
Death and destruction is not His agenda, for in His heart He is mild and tender
Collateral damage are the bodies that lay, like a swing His conscious sways
Doubts of weather His quest is true, the guarded gate He must break through
To find the answers He pursues, this struggle first He must conclude
Meters away His will starts to fade, the weight of His enemy is to much to take
Striking out with His trusty sword, breaking loose of the miserable horde
Through the gates He launches himself, breathing heavily regaining His health
Held at bay the enemy waits, not able to push through the gates
Warmth and comfort His embrace, preparing Himself for new challenges to face
The battle He won the war still continues, but with hope instilled defeat is no longer and excuse
So the proud soldier rises and stands, His mighty weapon shimmering in hand.
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