With strength I am armoured,
prayers grace the sword unsheathed.
Armed to the teeth I am,
with devoted thought and deed.
In this war that has been fought
since the blood in me unfroze,
no sacrifice is too dire,
no torment great enough to oppose.
Foe, march your legions
right at my kingdom's edge.
None may breach its bounds
without being torn to shreds.
There are things pure and sacred
and those that seek their decline.
Across the divide between them
we meet eye to eye.
It take a thousand masks
to conceal one rotten core,
but a single willed strike
can make its dominion fall.
For one last passing second
I lose myself in your empty stare,
facing me from the shards of the mirror.
