The Truth About Bravery


How misinterpretation

Throughout the generations

Has bred a falsehood in the 'gallant.'

Men with blackened hearts that never part from fearless balance.

He who cometh and say,

'Oh let his armies split my finest mail in twain

With every sword.

For I will soon fight bare (if though, in vain)

So I may seek reward.'

Yes, he who soon declares his proper corpse

For sake of death alone

Will surely die remembered

For his causeless bones.

Finest heart-wood burns the embers of resolve.

But courage?

Need not apply.

He who bares his basest filth -

His proper vice and weakness built

Will surely rot alone.

Yes, alone... He who flees from reaper strikes

Will sink into the night -

A lone wolf staying true to every aspect of his life.

Yet he will die inside the eyes of every nobleman a 'lie.'

Finest soul-scent reeks the Truth.

And courage?

Applied but never recognized.

One man indeed did lose his breath

In a careless storm's wake.

Courage mistaken for fearlessness' sake.

The Rash will not rest 'til they've been colored ghoulish.

Where man feareth not death, be he brave or foolish?

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