Wounded Warrior
 

Standing calmly in a senselessly churning mind slowly he looks to the horizon then limps on towards birthright bliss; taking in the world; no longer violently cursing immense potential spiked with bitter limitations; no longer screaming to the night about inequities found in cruel interplay between order and chaos; embracing life the best he can now; stumbling forward knowing whether engaging or hiding from it truth will always find him; sometimes unaware sometimes directly in his path like a demon that must be dispatched quickly ruthlessly with a still deadly but shattered sword of fading consciousness; He knows without question that accountability and perhaps a shield made up from tattered shards of will can lead him on to victory; but he still weeps sometimes; not at the many wounds inflicted on himself, but at the grisly carnage on the battlefield when looking back the piles of twisted mangled corpses; all of them dead by his own hand all of them choices that might have been.

Nice! :)