It wasn’t so long ago that the army of Rome forced me into submission.

Promised with land and freedom through a insidious smile, I find myself betrayed with a kiss.

Slavery haunts me, and chains and shackles bound me to anguish of spirit.

Battles are inevitable, as swords are forced into my hands and other slaves are pushed in front of my very eyes.

From then I are forced to draw blood for life so dear.

The Romans watch from height, cheering for the blood I draw, laughing at my pain.

Attempts to flee are in vain, for in the end I only feel whip upon flesh.

Hugging the delusive phantom of hope, I constantly hope to reconcile with freedom.

Day by day, I am thrusted upon the sands, facing formidable adversaries willing to take my life for glory.

Every second count in the arena and I must stay vigilant if I want to maintain my fragile life hanging on a string.

For every victory I beseech the tyrannical Emperor to let me spare the life of my foe, for we are brethren.

But as always, my illusions of hope are shattered when I see the downturned thumbs.

As years pass, the accumulation of despair, anger, and violence finally lets me indulge into the glory of battle.

Until it transforms me into a fully fledged gladiator.


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