A real hero is who sacrifice his life with altruism, arrogance, and courage fighting to die in the wake of a greater good……………freedom……………… brotherhood……………….. or just love, this warrior germinated at this world never doubt on folowing the voice inbound his chest, expresed in the loud roar that terrify his enemy, defining their resons to stand like sheeps on a lions path, staring their shepard bleeding to death at the beast jaws, while he shares a vicious tear, a morbid word stir from his mouth, he says, if you stand still, i’ll feel proud.
watching what a war wound could made in to a warriors head, he draws a black halo over lugubrious dirt, holding with his hand what remember to his god, his meaning is suffering with him like he was told by his religion.
the day tears apart the childish beastplate that has always offered a warm unction, the sun comes with the eternal shine for this new blazon, a titan walks among us writing his own song, and everyone are joining to the choir to sing to their sons how looks a real man in epic circumscription.
but the hero is doomed becouse he lives with out war, there is no walkiria for him to carry his soul, the greed, vanity and perfidious lust has seduced to the walkire, she has just quit to her job.
my moribund body more than a weapon looks like shame, this hand tied soldier has not alowed to be revealed.
i have seen a lot of female and males in the army, and some other humans with more reckless daring and conviction begging to god for contrition, i won’t let them fail.
both, star and medall are for the crowds a pathetic vision, this floods my eyes with laments and speak my tear with all the seasons, should exist any reason to avoid regret on this song?.
the mother, the widow, the sister, and the girlfriend feels confortable with a death body lying on their beds…….. instead of, a son, lover of the sister of his ex, swift on praying i love you with out been request.
i am talented to quit to my life, as a coward see me others who think their never gonna die.
the light at the tunel end is a dragonfly, it isn’t new over here, she told us the same history that mom use tell me, when i go to sleep.
if you see on a sunday an old canvas on a church, you’ll see me probably at the picture posing on the chair, i’m a wolf lying on a cold white bed, turning the snow around me on a glare red.
Edgar Fabian Gil Amado
The sight behind the dark.
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