The Last Battle Poem by Bill Simmons

He held the sword within his hands
Hesitated as he breathed
All at once with all his might
Broke the sword across his knee

He was the son of a King
In battle. he had always won
But would not raise sword again
To take the life of anyone

As he looked across the battlefield
For this too he had won
As he stood he stood alone
He had survived the only one

All of this and for what
He had won but had not
Across the field his friends there lay
What was it he had got

As he looked for his steed
The blood trickled down his knee
He saw it standing in the center field
He approached it desperately

As he stumbled across the field
His eyes searched for breath of life
But wounded he would walk alone
For all they had died

He somehow climbs upon his steed
He bleeds now profusely
His steed it takes just six short steps
He falls too to destiny.