Life and breath, brethren and kin, only a luxury in this war;

Ripped flesh, blood and skin, magical realism of my scars.

I lurk in the shadows of anonymity,

with my sword I write and rewrite your history.

Battles fought and lost and won, and my award is never my bravery.

With every battlefield I've been in, every wound I've healed, 'Courage' seems to be but a weak cover;

The least I need is 'hope' to die if I could,

with the tainted memory of my lover.