I am descended from knights of olde.
Their armor passed down through the generations to be worn by me,
Shining and cold.
I am protected from all who may wish to do me harm.
But there, beneath the surface, lies somewhere the armor cannot protect.
I fight battles against dragons in my head, rescuing damsels locked in towers made of fear.
Curses of depression sweep my kingdom and I search out a cure far and wide.
My armor becoming worn and tarnished.
But still strong, keeping everyone out.
Deep in a dark, hidden forest I find the witch who can help me.
Crippled and blind she grants me the cure for the depression.
But at a price, everything must come at a cost.
And this cure cost everything.
Giving up my armor I expose myself to the world.
To save my kingdom, my mind.
Scarred and broken I return to my kingdom and free my people.
And my journey is shown through my scars, showing the battles I won without armor.
I no longer need it, every battle fought open and exposed.
And I win every one.
