Empty heads and bloody hands, 

The enemies slaughtered me,

Disbelief, skepticism, and fear, 

I pledged to fight by your side, but my enemies were not at the frontline, for they were within. 

I left you with everything, thinking the field would not miss a soldier like me, 

I never killed one, unlike you who slayed knights and destroyed kingdoms and tamed dragons,

Letting you bear the weights of my safety and yours. 

I could not bear my weakness, and the burden I put on your strength, I ran to free you.

I came back,

To see you once more,

I miss the battlefield and to tend your wounds,

I did not want to battle, but the storm came.

I storm comes again, do I cower?

I raised my sword and there was you at the frontline, and blood.

My blood I anointed you with, and the wounds I cursed you with.

I hoped that your bleeding would stop, but for the fear of losing you, I feared to show it to you too.

I gave up my sword again, and chose a life only I could be,

But I am tainted and stained of you, my remorse, my blood,

With hands that miss holding you, thoughts that keep showing you, spirits I keep seeing you.

I cower at the thought of a battlefield, I shall no longer.

I pray for a tomorrow where we are, and forever.

Solitude bear fruits of freedom and torment, the dilemma of relief and restraint.

My life with the sword has just begun, for I have slayed my enemies for future's sake. 

I come again, with clean hands, take me, please.

I regret, my blood, I bathe you, in, 

There is no storm, but silver and gold I have none.

All I have is helping hands in the warrior's path you thrive on.

So the warrior of a thousand days, died.

And they lived happily ever after, apart.

This soldier has no home, he roams,

I slayed the storm, the fight, and the blood,

I miss the wars I missed, as much as I miss you.

With these bruises I have slayed a hundred, earning years worth of accolades in months.

I must go to war again, the storm shall steal my joy no longer.