A little poem about a petty soldier, whose life of course is just a puppeteer's string being pulled from the side lines...
To do just to die,
To lie there just to fight.
Alone he stands in the middle of the fray,
Unwilling to show his might.
Yet, the soldier steps forward and takes his stance,
His forehead is covered in sweat and grease...
Unaware of what lies ahead,
He thinks it will bring him glory and the realm peace.
Is this his only endeavor?
What he fights for, he doesn’t even know,
Yet he denies being deceived by the cunning and the clever.
For all I care he must be a pawn.
Or rather a puppet for this case he might be,
His strings are being pulled by a man discreetly.
A man so powerful who can start a battle spree,
And directs the commoners while nagging the king.
The soldier’s courage is definitely commendable,
His valour and strength are qualities to be hailed
All the more his life is still meaningless to the rest
An unsung hero he will soon be to the valiant brigade...