He walks alone
In quiet night
Satisfied by
Victory in the fight

I approach
Slowly at first
Knowing his hunger
Knowing his thirst

He seeks a battle
He seeks a friend
He seeks a war
That will not end

I approach
I ask him why
He looks at me
Pain in his eyes

"I fight for honour."
That's what he said.
But then I see it -
his heart seems dead!

He then explains it
With a tear
He fights and wins
Because of fear

He doesn't fight
Because he must
Not for power
Not for lust

He fights an enemy
None ever see
He fights from within
He fights with glee.

He lives for the feeling
He lives for the punch
He lives to hear
That sickening "crunch"

But when I think of it
How can he say
That that is a life
When he could walk away

What about fighting
Fills him with joy
Much like a child
With a new toy?

His reason is this:
He fears only life!
He fears dying here.
He fears death by the knife.

He says to me
In a whispering voice:
"It's time to fight,
Time to rejoice!"

Now I wonder myself
What problem is solved?
Should I just sit here?
Should I get involved?

When I see him fight
And I watch him kill
Does it prove at all
That he has iron will?

What can he show
By winning the duel?
I only see proof
That he's a fool.

But have I courage
To say it to his face?
Can I attack
This fighting ace?

I sense his fear
And realize
That I share this fear!
Oh, what a surprise!

And I rise to my feet
But I don't put him down.
I simply nod
And look at the ground.

He's opened my eyes!
We all must fight!
And if we do not,
Is it still right?

We all face a monster.
We all know we can!
But what if the monster
Is actually a man?

What is life without poetry and adventure?

Definitely a good reply there.

What is life without poetry and adventure?

What is life without poetry and adventure?