Eternal March of the Damned

Beneath a blood‐red, whispering sky,

A soldier treads through cursed fields of night,

Armor etched with scars of bygone honor,

Haunted echoes trailing each faltering step.

His eyes, twin voids of fractured dreams,

Reflect the monstrous twist of valor into dread—

Once a guardian of light, now a specter of despair,

Bound by chains of war that never release their grip.

In the silence between explosions,

The ghost of duty morphs into a beast of regret,

A visage of idealism corroded by endless strife,

Where every heartbeat echoes with the toll of sin.

Within the marrow of his crumbling soul,

Internal demons wage a ceaseless war,

Whispering of guilt and shattered promises,

A torment that transmutes honor into horror.

Thus he marches, eternal in his cursed plight,

A figure caught in an unyielding cycle of decay—

The tragic soldier, a martyr of monstrous metamorphosis,

Forever lost in the twilight of corrupted dreams.