Ballad of a Warrior
He stands: proud, strong, and weak inside.
The red and gold helmet he uses to hide,
Some have mistaken for foolish pride.
But mansions and money do not mean satisfied.
In the eyes of the world, he always had it all.
Genius, rich, handsome: they saw no downfall.
But when his very own father would ignore his call,
People would laugh, and then he would bawl.
People said, “be a man, you must carry on”
When his parents, once there, were suddenly gone.
He filled his mind, worked from dusk until dawn,
And hid ev’ry weakness, and stifled each yawn.
Everything changed in the span of a year,
What he once saw as hope, he then saw as fear.
And things had to change. He remembers it clear:
When he said “I’m sorry,” and thought he was sincere.
As the years went on, he continued to fight.
Needing to prove he could do what was right,
Or trying to avoid the opposite sight.
Whichever it was, it took all his might.
A million scars and injuries without any end,
But the mental pain was one he did not apprehend.
Worthlessness, loss, barely able to defend.
Complete hollowness, save the few he calls “friend.”
Those people wondered why he never would yield
In the millions of fights in the battlefield
As he fought for everything, his empty was concealed,
Although he doesn’t hurt, he never was healed.