Ranks of sorrow besiege my soul,
As rain drops shower down, ignored.
These men at arms lie silently,
The life within their veins outpoured,
Upon the bloody battle field,
Where waits a shapeless shadow-beast.
It groans with longing to devour,
All men, all hope, in bloody feast.
And I, alone, I hold the gate,
My hands hold down the iron bar,
As in the darkness something waits,
To all my strength of heart devour.
What can I do? I hold the fort,
Until I hear the beast upstart.
As thunder from the ground relates,
The beast is charging for my heart.
"Oh fantasy! Oh fabled beast!
Turn not thy eye on me; instead,
Return to darkness, ne'er return!"
And after crying this, I fled.
I left my post and turned to run,
To anywhere I might be safe,
When through the heavy, bolted gate,
There burst forth that demonic wraith.
I halted flight but did not turn,
I scarce was able to believe,
That this was it, my end had come;
Behind me I could hear it breathe.
I never looked, I never saw,
When it bore down its claws on me,
I just remember searing pain,
And falling into darkness deep.
Inside the beast there is no light,
But memories of happy days,
And all I know of happiness,
Is fading memories of your face.