A brave warrior puts on his mask,
not of silver or gold, but wax.
He draws his crimson blade,
for he is accustomed to the blame.
He mounts in his darkest hour,
through those plains of judgmentals shower.
In the presence of his foes,
he has no fear that shows.
Their he stands and gaisses at his prison,
with sword at hand, but not risen.
He stairs at its emerald walls,
and enters those crowded halls.
He walks in not seeking the horrors of battle,
and yet, enters a war he cannot settle.
He admires all the creatures in this hell,
for the hate he has, is not something he can easily yell.
A brave warrior fought with all his might,
fighting for what he believed was right.
In the end, their is none to whom I can tell his tail. The tail of a man that rose with heart,
and fell by the devils dart.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Warrior by Samuel Smith )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- But you are abandoning me, gajanan mishra
- I am going to meet an end, gajanan mishra
- Maple Tree, Kyle Schlicher
- In the clouds, DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK
- Missing You Now, Nida Sofi
- EVERY POEM HAS ITS PHILOSOPHER AND ITS P.., MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Going to meet an end, gajanan mishra
- Helen Keller, Kyle Schlicher
- Insignificant, Kyle Schlicher
- I Watch The Ants, Kyle Schlicher