Last Man Standing

Last Man Standing

He stood alone, a champion of war
Upon a broken battlefield of gore
Corpses lay strewn around his armoured feet
Each told a tale of how death came to greet

He wiped the splatter of blood from his eyes
The sound of pain and mourning, distant cries
Too overwhelmed with fear and relief
He failed to notice the defeater’s grief

He had endured the sharp blade and long spear
The touch of death, of wild primitive fear
Fighting for his life in the dead of the night
And against all odds he had won the fight

Now a weary body tiredly dips
As a sword from bloody hands slips
And in the distance the sun rose to see
Him standing alone in victory