The troll rears its ugly head,
Drool slips from his tainted lips,
His tattered shirt, painted deep red,
Skulls dangling from his hips...
Deep green runs his blood,
Oily black hair,
Pupils brown, cloudly as mud,
Skeletons strewn about his lair...
All fear his daunting walk,
He trembles the Earth with his stone feet,
All are silenced at his viciferous talk,
None of the townspeople wish to meet...
I stand in front and behold,
Some call it blatant stupidity,
I call it being openly bold,
I fight for salvation and continuity...
I stand, clad in blinding armor,
Fearing no man... no monster,
Now a knight, but once a mere farmer,
In the end, I will conquer...
Metal strikes bone,
Lightning flashes, thunder cracks,
Both he and I, standing a top a wobbling stone,
Except I have a dark, endless hole to my back...
The fight rages on,
Blow after blow we fight,
A victor shall emerge at dawn,
But now we tarry in the night...
The sun, a sign of hope, peaks gently over the hill,
Rivers run of the blood spilt,
The day shall be spent at the victor's will,
While the corpse of the slain, like a dying flower, will wilt...
I stand, clad in deep bloodred armor,
Still I fear no man... no monster,
Still the knight, but wishing again to be that peasant, that farmer,
But I was wrong, I did not conquer...