There was once a man
Who roamed the lands,
And every soul encountered
Feared his hands,
For he was known by many
Throughout the lands,
For his wrath unleashed
Upon the damned.


 As legend foretold
About such a man,
Who would one day
Yield at hand,
Before a goddess
Or so he deemed,
One the likes of which
He had never seen.


 But he was fooled
Upon being unarmed,
Like the damned before him
Befell this harm,
Now a victim
The pain slowly seeps,
Reality sets in
And he softly weeps,
His armor is shattered
Torn and mangled.


 His ego diminished
His will,
Strangled,
Despite his efforts
To salvage the shambles,
He finds it impossible
To repair his mantle,
From his once perfect image
Now reduced to rubble.


 He now roams the lands
Everyday a struggle,
Souls encountered
Point and chuckle,
To the man
They once thought
A God,
Immortal.


 Now exposed
Nude and humble,
He’s learnt his lesson
A bearer of sorrow,
Hauling his broken armor
For today and tomorrow,
Now an example for those
Of what not to follow.


Heed this advice
Or roam the lands alone,
A land
Barren and hollow,
A road
Paved, with stone.