Resurrected with the power of light, My prowess in battle is unmatched by even an Iron Lord, But still I have a conflict in which I eternally fight. Still, I do not know if I am blessed or cursed. The fight is easy, as though I only sparred, but still remains the dark of night. So, still I fight, Knowing I have not seen the worst. A new, great foe enters my sight. This Champion of the Hive takes a few hits, but I know they are rehearsed. It swings its fell blade and cuts through all of my friends' light. I raise my Golden Gun into the air and the champion shakes at the sound of its chord. Still I live, so I lend what is left of my light to end this fight. [spoiler]Rewritten with assonance, internal rhyme, and alliteration.[/spoiler]