oh ye gentle soldier

Oh ye gentle soldier, the sword is light in hand,
plucked from ignorance, thrust into a savage land!
shoulders shifting wearily beneath the weight of use,
and knees trembling terribly as killing doth ensue.

you end life so that others may live, soldier,
activity altogether achieving naught .
fooled by ancient vampires, wearing the masks of men,
thriving on sweat and blood, spewing money out their ends.

this world lies behind you, or perhaps ages far ahead.
who are you now, lightly stepping on freshly dead?
so cautious of a callous future, oh soldier,
and yet chagrin fails to stay your fear driven blade.
should blind justice find you, and inner turmoil quelled,
fare thee better or worse than those who you have felled?
Shall your gentle soldier's soul find long sought peace, or
painful punishment due to such hypocrisy?

I wager your death will be heinous, abominate,
and fictionary heavens with their partnered hells
shall obfuscate your waste into nothingness.

Oh ye gentle soldier, you loathe what you've become!
a brittle shell burning with wicked lack of rest,
behold, ye evolve into harbinger of death.

Halting erases no past, nor ensures a future;
to stop only gives more time for silent ponder;
minutes filled with hours of anguish, guilt and pain!
regret doth sour and overpower all taste of victory.

how dishonored the angel's fall!
how ignoble the demon's rise!
yet these tales spun into yarns you shall ever despise.