My Mighty Mail

A Meek Mockery my Mighty Mail,
For all it feigns it only fails,
A Meek Mockery my mimicking Mail,
a ponderous protection to which it pales.

Thought-Thick Thorns of Thistle,
Along my body bore bones like Bristle,
Miserably malleable to the meekest missile,
It seems even shatter-able to the merest whistle.

Where did I go-how was I lost,
Since when did my soul become covered with frost.
I was a hero, destined for glory.
but my failure and shame don't make a good story.

the Stubborn soul the sole redoubt,
surrounded and starved, it wont hold out,
Duty, diligence and dodged hope,
Have all retreated beyond the mote.

Who am to be the successor of me,
In anguish I ask this, just to see,
If what which I've become and what I'll be,
Even remembers what's left of me.

I was to be the Hero, so strong,
The champion and focus of many a song,
But all I can ask is where I went wrong,
And without it-where or how I belong.

My Mighty Mail grows so Mired,
I wonder if I can last.
My Mighty Mail I once Admired,
Now Tired, Torn, and slashed.