The Shepard
A Mass Effect fan-poem By Darth Xayri
50,000 years had past, the apocalypse begun again
Reapers, has they were called, would return.
This time, a hero arose, a Shepard to lead the flock.
A defender of the meek, and a protector of the strong.
Yet this Shepard was unable to get the flock,
To follow direction, for the flock would mock
And scoff, and laugh, for how could there be
A wolf in the night, a reaper, determined to
Consume, to destroy, and to process the sheep while
They would sleep. In the middle of the night, the Shepard did die
A pre-emptive strike followed by more. The reapers weakened the flock
Determined to strike, when the sheep couldn't take them on.
But then a small group of sheep, who did believe that the wolves and reapers did stock the night
Found thee body of the shepard, and did bring the shepard back
The Shepard back again, struck at the wolves den, a suicide task, by any other name
But the shepard succeeded, the wolves were no more.
Alas, it was too little, too late. For at the moor, the reapers landed on the shore.
Such a shame, for even a shepard couldn't take on all,
Not without the aid of a friend against the foes.