Prompt I wrote for the poem:

Overseer King Dracme: I don’t want your soul.

Soldiers: …Then what do you want from us?

Overseer King Dracme: For my gift…all I ask… is you all will do the one thing y’all are good at, the thing you’re only worth doing.

Soldiers: And what is that my liege?

Overseer King Dracme: (Menacing smile) Fight until you drop to your knees and your heart ceases to sing.

In a realm of shadows, dark and grim,
Stood soldiers still, their chances slim,
A chilling presence, King Dracme stood,
His gaze piercing, his intentions crude.

Soldiers dared to question their plight,
"What do you seek? Our souls to ignite?"
But the overseer, with a wicked grin,
Revealed his desire, a sinister spin.

"I don't want your souls," he coldly replied,
"For my gift to you, I ask with pride,
Do what you're good at, your purpose align,
Fight 'til your knees drop, hearts no longer entwined."

Silence hung heavy, like a spectral shroud,
Yet soldiers' spirits, they remained unbowed,
In verses of battle, their worth they'd embrace,
As they stepped forward, destiny to face.

Each word echoes, a battle cry,
As swords unsheathed, reaching for the sky,
The Overseer watch, his hearts delight,
As warriors clashed in the darkest night.

Their armor gleamed with a resolute gleam,
Bound by duty, fueled by a dream,
With every strike, they defied their plight.
Determined to fight, even in their last plight.

Through the haze of chaos, their spirits thrived,
Their hearts ablaze, refusing to be deprived,
They fought with valor, an unyielding flame,
For King Dracme's twisted, unholy claim.

As the battle raged on, the night grew deep,
Soldiers fought on, their souls to keep,
Their hearts sung a dirge, yet refused to succumb,
For the Overseer's demand, they had become numb.

In the end, when their strength had waned,
When victory seemed an illusion, unattained,
They knelt on the battlefield, with hearts resigned,
Their songs silenced, their purpose intertwined.

With a wicked smile, the Overseer beheld,
The soldiers broken, their fate now felled,
Their fight had ceased, their souls now bereft,
In the wake of the darkness, nothing was left.

Thus, a chilling tale of the soldiers' strife,
Bound to fight, to their very life,
For King Dracme, their tormentor, their liege,
They fought 'til their hearts no longer besiege.