So he sits up all night in grave despair,
Not sure how he dies in battle the next day.
By the sword's blade or the tip of the spear.
'I may die tomorrow', to himself he says.
'To night might be my last', so he thinks.
All he can do is to but hope and pray.
Unable to sleep, he can't even blink,
Because Thought of death constantly on the brain.
Not with one eye closed, he can't even wink.
He is uncertain how he might be slain,
Thus, He is griped by so great a fear.
And so he says to himself over and again.
'I, tomorrow my first foes shall not spare
So he sits up all night in grave despair
©jewd
J