Like a knight, I feel stalwart and strong,

My amor shining in the sunlight, standing, poised and ready for combat.

On the surface, my armor is gray and dull.

Unpolished, and overused. 

Cracks appear on the surface, but it's been repaired many times before.

I'm unsure of when to stop the maintenance. 

You strike, and I block with my shield, an ugly and splintered thing.

The once glorious and impenetrable wooden shield, bearing my outward appearance.

It's been hacked and smashed to bits so many times before by so many others.

I can't stop using it though, it's in my training.

I think sometimes I should get a new shield, 

but I also know I enjoy fighting from a disadvantage. 

My sword is brilliant, at least I think. 

When I look at it, all I can see is my comrade into battles of past, helping me to fight.

When others see it, they see it as a danger, an immediate threat.

It gleams to me, but to them it's rusted and worn, and they fear it. 

They fear that once I get through their armor, the sword will cut them deeper and worse than any other

and they should fear it.

All of my foes fear me,

they do not hold the blade like I do, they hold it unsurely and casually.

I take the fight seriously, and when I want to cut them, I make sure I cut deep.

They can only respond by cutting at me, but I block away their attacks so easily.

Sometimes I wish they would cut deep into my flesh.

The pain of their weaponry would remind me what it's like to experience battle.

Perhaps I'll meet a foe worthy of my true fighting skill someday.

Perhaps they just haven't started fighting seriously yet.