Only myself to ward against myself,
Shattering the silent armies of despair against the gates of
the night
Shattered dreams, Shattered hopes, ruined ideals
All smashing themselves against one figure clad all in
white.
The battle is joined, and the tide changes rapidly.
What will be the end, one asks?
What does it matter, I answer
Will it ever end at all?
Is there any other possibility but defeat?
And what gain does one have, ruling the eternal wasteland,
where the soul dwells.