I Fight On Poem by Mark Heathcote

Besieged and blooded, and wolves baying at the door
I confess I am vanquished nearly, but still—I fight on.
Is it my belligerence to do combat alone?  
Wanting only to throw down my life
'Falling on my sword' or finding a woman's love
Worthy of trust and faith without betrayal
I confess I am vanquished nearly, but still—I fight on.
The promise of such a woman's love
It keeps me here still, mortally wounded clinging on.

Sadly, I am not whole without this other half.
And who she is forever remains a mystery to me.
I confess I am vanquished nearly, but still—I fight on.
And each attempted homicide leaves me
With a deeper and greater despair, a scar so deep
It taints my ancestor's gaze upon me with shame.
Sowing such weakness answers no one's prayer.
I confess I am vanquished nearly, but still—I fight on.
I am compelled to 'fall fatally on my sword'
And fall in love one final time once more a martyr for all.