Echoes of the forgotten

In shadows deep, he treads alone, No hearth to warm, no love to own. No kin to call, no friend to hold, A heart grown weary, a soul grown cold. The world, a place of endless night, No guiding star, no beacon bright. His echoes fade, unheard, unseen, A ghost within a broken dream. With every step, the silence grows, No one to share his hidden woes. He sold his soul for a soldier's wage, To fight in lands of endless rage. A mercenary, bound by gold, His heart a stone, his spirit sold. No home awaits, no tearful eye, Just empty skies where echoes die. In foreign fields, he'll draw his breath, Where life is cheap and close to death. For when the world no longer cares, A man finds solace in despair.