A Spartan's Note Poem by Daya Nandan

I stand here as my father before me, both strong and brave,
Trained from childhood to never fear my grave,
It may be my final resting place, perhaps i will die young,
But what matters is glory, not a life span that is short or long,

I was raised on the battlefield, soaked in the blood of their flesh,
The countless enemies i have killed with my iron hammer's smash,
The many beheaded foes with missing arms and legs,
Some died in honor, some ran away with their eggs,

There are scars all over my body, some still hurt,
Just as the traumatic memories of my friends buried in death,
And through all these events i still stand with the weapon i wield,
Ready to kill thousands with my mighty sword and shield,

Although i have been through countless clashing blades and dying rattles,
Although i believe that the more you sweat in practice, the less you bleed in battle,
Old age draws death closer, i will be pulled near death's wicked blade,
And life within my body shall eventually fade,

As the arms of Hades grab me and pull me down below,
And travel to the underworld with a horrid gothic glow,
I shall rise up from death's paralyzing chains and fight my way out,
And drive my fist through Hades's burning mouth,

I will not stay dead for i am a phoenix rising from the scorching grounds,
Directly through the fires of hell, away from Satan's sounds,
I shall rise up and come back to you if i should ever fall,
Death is an obstacle but not an unclimbable wall,

So, don't fear death my son, don't fear life when i am gone,
For i will not leave this world without my fatherhood being done,
We are spartans my son, raised with great pride, glory and skill,
So, be ready for life my child, be ready to kill.