I have a habit of writing poetry from other peoples view points, am
neither a warrior, nor a man, and am definatly not a dying one of
either. but, here it is anyway

.............................

I know it's quite peculiar
for a warrior to write rhymes.
I'm pretty sure today though
it's the least of all my crimes.
It's been my quest for years now
the killing and the death
but now I lay here bleeding
I feel I must confess.

Now my bones are broken
and my inards are without
revenge was slow in coming
of that I'm in no doubt.
The children I've left crying
the young ones I have killed
the wars from which I've walked away
the graves I've left unfilled.

I've always been a fighter
fought my battles, every one
before I've always left alive
but now my life is done
I call upon the heavens
to judge me well and true
i'm sorry for my past now
so much i would undo

the world gets dark around me
my breathing cases pain
and i swear I'd do it diferently
If I could do it all again
i wouldn't lift my sword so high
i wouldn't take a life
I'd settle down instead lord
make children.Take a wife

I'll close my eyes now great one
my life is in your hands
i'll breath my last now master
and hear the final sands
i'll walk into the darkness
the cold and lonely place
let no one say I died lord
with tears upon my face

Penned by my hand on the 12th of Daedalan, in the year 382 AF.