How then is it that we are to blame
For believing glory you proclaim,
And it’s true,
You have power.
But you only offer smoke and withhold your flame.
Then comes the hour,
when we must be empowered.
Less without your full might,
with your truncated self,
We whither like dying flowers.
And so tears drip,
though they are never shown.
Warrior's emotions must be clipped,
Even when reflecting on lost glory never known.
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