I fear I have come to an end
for that my sword is so hard to mend
I can nolonger be a hero
for that my strength is close to zero
I try to act as I am fine
but I blurt it all out with wine

so now I'm but a peasant
this life is not pleasant
or maybe it just not for me
for that a hero I was made to be

I cry myself to sleep at night
for that I am no longer a knight
I've tried to ride my cow
but I allways manage to fall somehow

as I grow older
my heart gets colder
and I feel my life slipping away
and I realize that heros come and go
they are not here to stay

-The Poet