Insolence and total disregard, for the laws and the men who invent them
Rash too, as well as hard, with a soul intent only on mayhem
Unblinking and resolute, full to the very brim with aggressiveness
Rumored to be of ill repute, and in a way he will get the best of this
A man born to war and the stench of the dead, his weapons are his lover's
Living by a creed of his own design, and that is to do unto other's
Asleep his dreams contain images of death, his dreams by day are dark
The one fatal chink in his armour? it is these images that have left their mark
A sentry shouts out a question, recieving silence an only response
The soldier falls as the first rounds find him, the shock registering at once
Martyred in death and in life an enigma, as a memory of vast intellect
His ideals a lasting remembrance, too the many lives that still bear their effect.