{{
`${userDetail.user.displayName}${userDetail.user.cachedBungieGlobalDisplayNameCode ? `#${standardizeBungieGlobalCode(userDetail.user.cachedBungieGlobalDisplayNameCode)}` : ""}`}}
{{getUserClans()}}
Изменено (ninjanunchucks4):
9/24/2019 6:04:51 PM
1
A Gunslinger's Last Lament, a Poem by ME
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.
My blade easily cuts through my foe's sword,
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.
Edit: Spelling Corrections
-
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]
