The Armor

My blade heckles in the wind like a mad dog as it sears through flesh,

Separating spine from head.

“His armor didn’t do him justice.”

Another poor soul that has fallen victim to anothers direction, and my armor.

Blessed by the Gods is my armor, that holds the gleaming bronze to my strong, yet

Fragile exterior.

A cold shell that turns my heart into Winter.

With my armor I chase the legend of Achilles, my cousin, in battle.

Aspiring to bring glory to our name.

Thirty. The poor souls, I can taste their screams

Forty. I can smell their fear and hear their shakes.

Fifty. Don’t cry, it won’t be much longer.

Sixty. My toes are cold with the hot blood soaking the earth.

Though they have fallen, they have fallen for the greater cause.

Helen will be returned and I will show my cousin whose best.

Seventy, Eighty. My bronze still gleams in between the blood stains of fallen comrades.

Ninety. I have surpassed the record, but not by my hand. This is for us.

Zeus himself might grant me admission into Celestial ranks for besting the greatest?…

Wait?!…. What’s this?

One of the many pawns must have got a lucky shot in?

I have achieved a new record but at great cost, my burning bronze has failed.

I’m hemorrhaging! My vision is getting blurry and I’m feeling shortness of

breath. I’m starting to choke on my own blood.

My shell was a furnace fueled by commands, now it is freezing.

A just feeling for the blind orders taken. I can’t stand and I fall to my knees,

as if I’m to beg for my life amongst the many I’ve taken.

I didn’t sleep on a bed of gold,

but I never ran short of pride.

My vision is starting to turn over to the dark abyss,


I have done nothing but take and have nothing to show for it

But, this empty cold shell!

How many hallways stolen of slaughter?

This wasn’t our battle. This wasn’t our fight.

Was her beauty worth it?

Helen- from Trojan war. Paris kidnaps her and sparks the Trojan war.