In battles fierce, where shadows dwell,
Should I weave slander’s subtle spell?
Or stand in truth’s unyielding light,
Fight with dignity, uphold the right?

The world may praise the cunning art,
Of those who play the jungle’s part,
Where might and stealth secure the crown,
And weaker souls are trampled down.

Yet deep within, my spirit knows,
Beyond the tumult, beyond the throes,
True strength lies in unwavering moral core,
Not in the victories of war’s roar.

For in the end, when dust shall settle,
And I transcend each testing mettle,
It’s character, not cunning schemes,
That weaves the fabric of my dreams.

Let others choose the path they will,
With guile their empty cups to fill.
I choose the road less trod, yet bright,
Armed with truth, and honor’s might.