He moves through night,
The dead keeps him in fright.
No weapons no knife,
only a name to keep him up right.
Feelings of depression,
Inside Anger shows aggression.
To him sometimes there's no blessin,
Bored thinking is the light actually real, his frustration keeps him guessin'.
Every corner an antagonist,
He always have to play an protagonist.
His Good days he missed,
Downed by the ones who dissed.
A Battle can be low,
only to rise up slow,
from the dark fallen with crows,
To a gate with silver and gold arrows.