Pleasure Inside

And the pleasure in my blank face is for the memory 

Now that I’m doing what needs be done

And if nobody sees it, then look harder

It’s been there since my town days maturing.

A quiet lad I was, doing the right boy things

Neighbours smiled when I’d go military walking

I suppose they admired my quirky discipline

The way I conducted my polite and respectful self,

Serious and determined, I knew I’d be a warrior

For trouble was brewing abroad back then.

When I was mucking about with my mates

They couldn’t sense it, but I could,

Something was happening, I was 12, and I knew it.

The local memorials hadn’t any new names

Impressed upon it,

That’s what my dad said, looking hard at me,

Not since his glorious name.

He told me there are many enemies of his faith,

He never had enough time to bottle their minds all,

Underneath dirt, or down the beaks of carrion.

I looked up to my dad, and then he died.

I left home and my family fell from my name,

And I went looking for enemies,

It took me all over the world,

They were everywhere, these enemies,

I had to take a stand, but first 

I learnt how to laugh while doing the cleaning.

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