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Looking in the mirror on a cold December morning,
Eyes of steel looking back at a heart grown cold.
Slowly dressing in my uniform preparing for this day;
A strange calm sweeps across my soul, the battle is at hand.
Strapping on my sword, then my helmet; my heartbeat increases.
Stretching out my fingers, hearing them crack and pop;
I take one last look in the mirror, I see the mighty warrior.
Striding out the door, mounting my horse, I then begin to ride;
Joining the army of other warriors, entrenched to the south.
Dawn is slowly breaking over the eastward ridge ahead;
My jaw is firmly in place, my hand is steady, my heart is cold.
Prepared to meet my destiny, I see the silhouette of the pale rider.
Fear enters my mind for an instant, I see the insanity of war.
My cold warrior heart rises to comfort me, I am calm again.
The battle fronts are drawn as the sun slowly colors the day.
A mist lays gently across the landscape as we wait;
The drum begins to beat slowly, then it's rhythm increases.
Excitement surges through my body, my heart begins to race.
I am on the cutting edge of history this day; victory must be ours.
The bugler blows; a rush of cold blood surges through my veins;
Charging into this moment I was born for, sword flashing in the morning sun.
Blades ripping flesh, blood spilling onto the hungry ground;
Adrenaline pumping; my mind shuts down, I become a machine.
I feel warm blood in my mouth, I am run through to the hilt.
I am warrior; I heart my heart grow feint; I am warrior.
In a cocktail of blood from many warriors I lay;
Death rattle in my throat; I speak one last time; I am warrior.
Looking up into the golden sun, feeling the warmth, the embrace;
The sounds of the battle fade in my ears; the pale rider calls my name.


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