Archetype

This sword made of cast iron I brandish to protect
Has tasted countless bloods from countless dragon necks
The shine illuminating, glows more bright with every strike
Until one day the final slay turns eyes forever blind
The beast I tame with ease
I slice apart their every limb
I swing from bendy trees
And severe by the chin
A dark once overwhelming turns to daylight
A skill I nurtured young during episodic play fight
Take the hands of chaos, from the wrist, I dispossess
My 20 years of life turn bloody murder to finesse
Upon my 30s, nearly ever beast, to conquer is no more
My skills I mastered young, for by the people I'm adored
they serve not to protect, I need for something to destroy
And if the beasts are gone to what direction I deploy
I search in vain for mortal combat
I search high and low the same
What do I gain from doing all that
Bringing tragedy and pain
My once noblest of feats has run its course I fear
I merely take the lives of innocence and become built from souvenirs
I wear the wings of eagles downed
The legs of African felines
I look to see my serpent tail
and wonder how could this be mine
I fought my life to kill the beasts who taunt the trees my kin depend
I fear the slaying of my dragons made me dragon in the end