Grotesque remains scattered around, of broken limbs and beheaded bodies,
All I wish is the mutilated remains of the winged dark angel the lord of lies ,
Canst thine mind so behold the sight that brings my soul up in glee,
As I high on the war cries see the dark legions hide and flee,
From dawn to dusk, the sights I see thrill my inner man and still it does,
Of all the slaughter and the cries of pain, increaseth my bloody lust,
Mine steel blade sinketh on one less a creature an inch too deep that splits its cran’,
As I turn to see the lord of lies, he brakes my tooth and sayeth “thou man”,
He knows not what I am meant to do, cause he knows nothing but filth beyond the blue,
His teeth like daggers out of their sheath, rusty in color with substance like glue,
Foul smelling air out of his mouth, like the chimney above a hundred morgues,
The breath of his nostrils sendeth a flame coupled with particle as a hundred fogs,
Scaly face no beauty to see, he must have spoiled his glories in dark’s darkness,
He looketh and thus he says “son of mortal arise to your doom”, “madness”,
I shriek with the final gust of strength, maybe I will or maybe I will not,
A legion of legions so huge to see, overshadows my steel that grandly fought,
I take a few steps behind too far, avoiding their shadow so massively dost fall,
While backing I climb on the pile of corpses, that my sword did fell,
What a fight I fought to this, still so more and more to sink, the agony,
Of the thought of me ebbing low to loose, “nay not me” I fought to rein,
Mine strength from its last reserves, mine courage from seeing the slain,
The slushy remains entangle in legs, my feet sinketh, no not my will,
A thundering voice, nay but roar, ripped the air that shattered my shield,
Holding its arm lock I wield the frame, shouting aloud “ I will not yield”,
Memories flash, the days where fun was my mate, twist in fate?
On wine so sweet on mine lips that did help mine brain, sedate,
When filthy deeds from the darkest place did my mind so faithfully tween,
On what thoughts that mine mind so raced, among the filth between,
Now as I am standing to deface, the old enemy who rid my pride,
I stood all day, prayed all night, to vanquish this creature and all its tide,
Now I stand without my shield, after vanquishing half its regions,
Mustering some energy with which I stood so tall among the legions,
“Here I am” I shouted aloud, that drained the energy I so mustered,
Lifting the sword with the cry maxim’, I heard something strike me like a thunder,
Lifting my body which fell so down, looking up ahead at mine sword that was yonder,
“Strike me filthy swine”,” I win when I loose, and you loose when you win”
Satanic laughter surrounds me uncouth; flames from hell lick my legs so thin,
Thin with fear of losing my life, in the hands of the demon from the pit,
Can’st some hand give me the strength to strike him down and doth hit,
His pride as he did to me on that fateful day, will I not somehow manage to strike,
And make him cower and feel the pain, agony hundredfold as in earnest do like,
I felt a cold hold on my back realizing am lifted up, the evil presence of the fleet,
Of tens of thousands of the damned, surround my every inch and in chorus beat,
The voice of darkness in the din, “you had disturbed me from my mission sweet”,
“I the supreme of heavens and earths look at the creator of this place”,
“Where thine powers so as to call, eat my destruction on creations I graze”,
“This planet you created under my dispose, out of thine sight,
“Keep thine heavens out of my sight, else I’ll be there to set it alight”,
“Blasphemy, blasphemy filthy lair, lord of lies and seepage of lust,”
“Cry against my maker, you the filth, scaly serpent and wicked opportunitist,”
My voice like that never before, in mid air, I drop to ground,
Opening my sore eyes to see in sight something found,
My sword lifting it high, the gleam on it for as to see,
“Father of filth, look at me, cause me not to loose more strength, my sword to thee”,
I plunge ahead so as to find that I have collapsed down near his feet,
As I lay sapped of energy, mine eyes with those of the legions did meet,
Hollow, as they were, eyes so red as made of brimstone,
Their formation stretched as far as the eyes could see, I all alone,
Their open mouth with foot long teeth, sunk the thought that I am left to die, I frowned,
Die so I will but burdened at the thought of my inability to strike the beast at its crown,
All those glorious childhood dreams of dying a valiant, half true and incomplete,
I wanted to take the death with my head lifted high, chest forward and him so meet,
All the plans of decapitating him of his head and filthy glory,
But now here I am with my mission in complete, a different story,
I the least on all the battle field, with a host of legions overlooking,
My sword laid down, no strength to do the carrying,
As the clouds began to darken, the stench of many a million corpses rose,
I so sapped of all morale and energy, uttered a last prayer, to give up my ghost,
By falling on my sword, the last thing a man can do,
I heard the laughter so vile, he must have guessed my move,
What the pain? What the agony? Need I say more,
All the fight I fought and still all the more, so gore,
Will I reach Valhalla? Will it come to pass?
But it’s for those heroes; I am nothing but lost,
“God of heavens, my creator up above, save me and give me another chance”,
“I will strike him, he will ne’er on your creations dance”,
As my voice at the feeblest in all my life, hardly my ears could hear,
As I held my sword to my chest, for it to plunge,
Into my hearts and this my final lunge,
I heard a rumble as that of an earthquake so distant,
I heard the vile noises go down in unison and chant,
“He is here the Great one”, I scampered on my feet,
There descended a light blue and soft, what a gentle heat?
I felt the warmth so wondrous, a touch from the yonder?
The foundations of my soul touched as never,
There was a jerk that shook my all, I opened mine eyes,
I lay on solid ground, facing the blue skies,
Gathering my new strength and looking at the horizon,
Seeing the fields, flowers, but where has he gone,
Lucifer and his legions, the thought made my fingers grasp the sword,
I pulled it out of my sheath, suddenly a mark on the soil, a word,
“Chance”, I guessed it was given to me, so fair,
I stood and walked knowing yet again I will meet Lucifer again in his lair.
As I know deep down that there will be his horde, for my blood,
Waiting for me, this time there will be more, I will be ready with my sword.
