Breezes blow across my face,
As footsteps echo through the hall,
The demon behind me quickens his pace,
And in fear I trip and fall.
Whispers fall here and there,
I can not think,
I can not hear,
Yet deathly images come to mind as I hear his armor clink.
Rippling and sharp claws briefly shine,
Then strike down towards me,
But in a brief flash, his armor chimes,
My dagger of iron slashes through his heart, and he can no longer be.
Thus finally falls the last demon of hate,
And I join other slayers of many times great.