Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. Obviously.

Poet's Note: I wrote this, oh…maybe five years ago? Six? And I recently came across it again, and edited it for publishing. This is not Lord Byron-quality poetry, and I don't apologize for it. It's also approaching rant status. Ah, well. It's one of my favorite pieces, and I'm satisfied.

Heart of a Trooper
Shadowlord

Faceless soldiers in helmets of white,
Used to years of dealing death,
Ruthless by training, loyal by nature,
Punished for anything less.
But once they were young, with naïve dreams
Of honor and glory and pride,
Of rescuing damsels and serving their land,
Of doing what they thought was right.
When did these happy young men
Become killers with hearts of ice?
Could they the same people still be,
Only colder, more efficient, more precise?
Perhaps they have been disillusioned.
Perhaps that's why few become Rebels.
Perhaps on the battlefields of this Great War
They found new meaning of heaven and hell.
Stormtroopers are much more than paid cannon fodder.
They have hopes and dreams and goals,
Likes, dislikes, hobbies, rivals,
Hearts and minds and souls.
Courage is the same no matter where found,
In a Sith lord or in his daughter.
So why is it valor is never seen
When it's found in the heart of a trooper?
Why must they pay for doing their jobs?
For loyalty to what they love?
Rebels fight for freedom; Stormtroopers do, too.
But why isn't it enough?
You fools, you fools. The troopers will always
Be better men than you.
Are you willing to die for what you believe?
In an Empire of pieces, they are the glue.
I dare you all to this simple challenge:
Be better than the troopers.
We should all be as noble as these fine men.
Only then will we have order.