The fighter

With golden locks of lace

I waltz around this town

This is no modern palace

This is my old home town


The people pass me by

And whisper to themselves

Am I the man that used to cry

At reflections of myself


You can no longer hurt me

My armor is too strong

It’s built on pain and fury

Like the scars that coat my arm


Despite your fists of hatred

My body shows no harm

Your blades of aimless anger

Now clash within your charm


My war with you is over

My battle’s almost won

It’s time to help my brothers

For I am not the only one.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741