Standing in glory with flowing yellow hair,
sword in the air; held with fear.
it wasn't the fear of losing a war,
it was the fear of killing someone.

Raising the sword, preparing for war,
with a trembling heart soon bound to die.
Ran towards the enemy with guilt-stricken eyes;
the guilt would never have walked away.

The person beyond was whose love was upon,
loved so much; the only friend.
If there was a choice, there would be no war;
for it brings only hurt and pain - nothing more.

Killing off the evil,
the sword was for its master.
Killing off the evil,
the hero was for its glory.

Hero—a name not suitable
for both sword or master.
For the latter killed the only friend;
the killer had no rights to be
called a hero.