I had a story in my head
made up by who knows whom
about a time less full of dread
and fear fresh from the womb

A time when men of honor made
a world at nature’s breast
who’d rather fall upon their blade
than fail the final test

The gods this world of men did serve
in kind were far less grim
immortal games of vim and verve
they played at every whim

But games and honor, gods and men
have left a world that’s real
a heavy heart takes up my pen
attempting to but heal

So as my story’s bell doth toll
a fiction to the end
its saving grace, a drama droll
to share with all my friends