Rycard's Den

I will battle against death with great strife.
For to die I must relinquish my soul.
And though that sometimes sounds appealing to me,
I know that to live, my soul must be whole.

I know my soul's chained to my body,
and to die it must be by my own hand.
But I will fight death with all of my courage,
guarding my soul until I make my last stand.

My spirit will be robed in crimson armour.
In my hands I will weild swords of flame.
Until I fall to the ground, body broken.
Only then will death make good his claim.

My life he will pluck from my body.
Holdiong it aloft in triumphant glee.
The aura of my spirit will wither.
And I will try with no hope to flee.

Death is a permanent master.
With no mercy to let his victims choose.
The moral of this story is simple.
Take arms against death, and you'll lose.


This is one of my favourites. It took me a few days to write it.
It is about the inevitability of death.