The Fate of Man

The men ride forth on their steeds, To perform such selfless, noble deeds. For the protection of all that they love, They'll meet the enemy, when push comes to shove. For in their fateful situation, They shall die for their nation. And at their waists, blades hang steady, For the men always are, above all, ready. The shields they carry on their backs, From battles old, are full of cracks. The maille that keeps the men from harm, Covers them: chest, leg, and arm. Throughout the battle, much is lost, Lives are bet, the dice are tossed. For battle is the gamble that they choose, A gamble even the luckiest can easily loose. In most stories, the good men live; the evil die, But in real life, that is nothing but a lie. The truths told are from the victors of the fight, The histories kept are not always right. So far too often, the evil live whilst good men die, The Gods of War cannot let this go by. And so, they will tear this world asunder, Blood is all that rains, and screams are heard like thunder. Until man is pure once more, The world shall shake to its core. Cleansing itself completely of all, The men who caused this dreadful fall. And once cleansed is the race of man, The species shall thrive once again. But, inevitably, the taint will return, And man will again kill and burn. And so once more, it shall be, That man shall fight to stay free. Some shall fight for not but gain, While others fight only to maintain. And... The men ride forth on their steeds, To perform such selfless, noble deeds. For the protection of all that they love, They'll meet the enemy, when push comes to shove... The cycle of death will continue to go on, Until the race of man is completely gone. When finally is man just part of ancient lore, Peace shall exist in this world once more. Such is the destiny this species has earned, Thus is the lesson that must be learned. We must obtain peace if in some way we can, Otherwise, this truly will be the fate of man. .