The drizzling drops,
Seemed to flow at a steady pace,
Through the steely armor,
Of the valiant knight.
He who draws the lasts of his breaths,
As he lay on the field,
Which was bathed by the blood of many others.
His head resting on the lap of the mother,
She who had birthed him from her womb…
His hands embraced the mother,
Whose principles had made him tall…
Surrounded by the family,
Which though of blood,
Had separated due to fate…
The mighty warrior drew his final breath
Accepting death with a smile gracing his face.
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