01/12/2024
Pick up your swords
Lone warriors formed into a ragged battalion
Pick up your swords
Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, and Sons
Ride stallions east to the war camp
Dampness awaits you.
The tales of honor and glory vacate you
You will receive no medallions today
Or tomorrow, still
Pick up your swords, and strap on your armour
Once a band of famished farmers now turned shallow soldiers
Pick up your shields, and fall in formation
Only this will save you in this war against imaginations darkest drawn demons
The fire will come like apocalyptic rain
Refrain from fleeing for honor's sake, and pick up your shield.
The armour meant to protect you now melts your flesh
The swords meant to aid you liquify in your hand
Your brothers fall to ash of man
You hear the screams of loved ones call
But you lone warrior press on.
You lone warrior remain
Staring into the soul of the beast through the glass stained portal iris
You remain firm. Soldier. No, warrior. No, general. No, CHAMPION.
Priceless is your presence. Metamorphosis is your creed.
Transcendent is your awareness.
Champion emerged from the shell of a man forged from fiery rain and misery
Pick up your sword. The one that remains unscathed from the inferno.
Strap on your armour. The charred bits that fit your enlarged mold.
Grip your shield firm. Freestyle your defenses.
For you are alone.
The last of a ragged battalion.
Alone you will carry your brothers souls across the river.
Alone you will avenge their final moments of despair.
Alone you will face the dragon,
And if you emerge victorious
If you overcome the odds
Lone Champion the Dungeon awaits
A poem by CT Scribe
From: Overstumulation
-poetry for Nerds
(COMING SOON)