i was born into this world
from anguish and love
and a pressing desire for revenge
he held me with his hands that told a story
strong hands that had grabbed
the beautiful locks of the beautiful Troilus
killing the beloved Trojan prince
strong hands that had embraced
the dead body of his dearest Patroclus
now, here i am, ready for battle
like a hawk trapped in a cage for a songbird
ready to take flight
and here i am when he slays the valiant Hector
the warrior's blood warm against my face
the feeling of fulfillment washes over us
until suddenly i'm on the ground, face first
my master has fallen with a cry of defeat
unwilling triumphed by a single arrow
gone through his heel at the end of the battle's heat
i can't see, but i know it's over
because i can no longer feel
the strength of his hands.