The Tale of a Sordid Soldier-Edited Version

Hey everyone, some of you may have read my poem 'The Tale of the Sordid Soldier' on Joc's blog. Well I found some of the lines rather weak, so i edited it, here is the final draft...

Once upon a darkened land, ran a horde, a monstrous band,
They were selfish, fiendish and foul, their very words made the wolves howl.
Armies from the North and South came to brawl at the Gorge’s Mouth.
Young loves kissed and bid farewell, except for one whose story I will tell,

He had lived a wholly sordid life, his will to live was on the edge of a knife.
Love he lacked and never grasped a young woman’s heart he never clasped.
Women passed him like he was imperceptible; his ghoulish features were clearly unacceptable.
“No one will ever love me” he believed, the existence of a wife he only conceived.

His phantom physique was truly frightening; he needed a woman to bring his soul brightening.
Sorrow, despair, morose and glum, was his love life truly done?
Was there no one to return his affection, or would he live a life full of rejection?
His very emotions disintegrated like a leaf, he needed something to end his grief.

A charming wife was out of the question, for no one wanted him even as a suggestion.
Forlorn was he in every way, nothing now could lighten his day.
At nightfall he would draw dark things of the past, things that were morbid and dreadfully aghast.
He had no friends or loving relations, he joined the army to fight for the nations.

The years of harsh training were nothing recent, just like his sentiments, they were never decent.
He didn’t care if he lived or died, a life without love, he could no longer abide,
There was hearsay of a menacing band; the time to wage war was now at hand.
Twilight consumed the golden sky, while the young soldier crawled in his bed to cry.

He wept for the life he never had, no marriage, no wife, no robust lad.
His fragile heart was completely shattered, nothing in life now really mattered.
He threw on his helmet and seized his sword; he was ready to fight this monstrous horde.
The men set off to the Gorge’s Mouth, these men were prepared to die for the South.

The young soldier followed the other men, into the battle they jumped in.
The fight raged on and was appallingly horrid, the rage in the beast’s eyes were dreadfully torrid.
Tears cascaded from his eyes like a creek, his grave depression had reached its peak.
He killed without pity or compassion, morbidly, this perverted into a newfound passion.

Finally a cold blade took his life, he grinned with contentment, bliss and blithe.
No more worries of sorrow or love, he could now reside serenely in the realm above.
With his final breathe of life; he thanked the bearer of that cold knife.
He died unreservedly with a smile of glee; he was now in a realm where he was free.