The warrior on the battlefield

No sword, no shield, no armour, no steed
No courage, no valour, no empathy, just greed

The world we live in, that’s what it’s become
No time, no patience, everyone’s on the run

Yet in the hour of sadness, I let myself recall
The good days of yore, when justice was for all

And I shall hear the whispers of the ancient stars
Singing their songs of the warriors of Mars

And I shan’t need a sword to fight my battle
My empathy is my weapon, even if it’s fragile

But I do, sometimes, yearn for a magical shield
To ward my worries away, so I may not yield