The Fray Poem by Brendon Secrist

My sword is bloody,
My armor is muddy,
You were warned,
Before you plucked this thorn,
That it would be your demise.
A hundred men,
Against my iron will,
Taken to war,
Atop this hill,
Underestimating my skill.
Swordsmen, Axemen,
A hundred strong,
A wave of terror,
Upon my shore,
By twos and three,
They roll down my hill,
As others rise,
And fall, to take their place.
Amongst the dead,
Hell's numbers praise,
As I slay them all,
By the end of the fray.

I'm only one man,
Against a tyrant,
But maybe one day,
They'll praise my name,
For being the only man,
Who joined the fray,
To stop a war,
For love and much much more.