The Gladiator

the gladiator

When the gates swung open

There stood a masterpiece

In the guise of an Alien

he hummed a soft hymn of hope

Tho’ the birds chirped awfully loud

he remained the center piece

lean shoulders raised proud

like a gladiator in Ancient Greece

The drums drowns out his voice

his calloused feet are weary

but this was his predestined choice

A final hurray before he was too feeble to carry

With all his might he raised his sword

like excalibur reflecting the glazing sun

That day, freedom was going to be restored

but he knew, this was not his day to win

The crowd roar louder like never before

The center piece’s hibiscus is wilting

The birds chirp louder, a warning of sorts

the sword hits the dust, the end of war.

Alas! the gates are closed

He awaits the satisfying singe of release

The gladiator’s heart is tossed aside, necrosed

brought to his knees by an unrepentant disease

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