The Warrior's Pain Of War Poem by Glaedr the poet

War has caused me much pain
By peace only will I abide
Thoughts of battle make me insane
My sword lays forgotten by my side
There stands my faithful steed!
who stood by me to the end
for war, of him, I have no need
He is naught now but my friend
A bag of gold within my hand
What was to be riches untold
plunder from that desolate land
the blood upon it's fields now cold
Much was done to earn this prize
yet at it, I cannot bare to look
I can still hear the bloody cries
of the men whos lives I took
I killed all who stood in my way
I spared not a single one!
After the end of that bloody fray
I felt great sorrow for what I had done
I dump my gold into the river
'I shall have no money for blood! '
The cold spray makes me shiver
as the gold sinks into the mud
I did not fight to protect
for my family had already been killed
out of this came a horrible effect
a desire for revenge that could not be filled
War has caused me so much pain!
War has given me nothing but sadness!
Nothing of war did I gain
except empty and cursed madness
This madness is a balm for my aching heart
for with it, I feel nothing
of this world I do not wish to be a part
for there is naught in it but suffering
I grasp my sword one last time
I touch its cold steel blade
I should end my life because of my crime
A peaceful death in this shady glade
To my heart the sword is brought
as I bring myself to my knees
Suddenly I have another thought
I throw the sword among the trees
'My consious I must free!
I cannot atone of my sin if I am dead
How selfish only to think of me! '
These have been the wisest words I've ever said