Again, I'm asking readers to judge whether this is good enough for a poetry contest. Thanks in advance.
The Believer
A pair of shady zealous eyes,
Chase the soaring of the sun,
They still glimmer in their tries,
To watch the dawn before it’s gone.
So long he missed the light
Of a pure inception.
So long, he was the knight
Of no one’s perception.
The prince twirls gracefully about,
And unsheathes his famous sword.
Points it at the sky and with a shout,
Calls all his followers to war.
With realism he teaches them,
To fight by honor and with heart.
And never let the rage for fame
Tear their noble goal apart.
Only a moment, just one thought
Drags him into a lost history.
The tide of events that unfold
His fairly tragic mystery.
His view blears with trepidation,
Tender hands grasp the thinning air,
And struggle, fight the invitation
Of a dark and somber nightmare.
Rabid storms have washed away,
The crumbs of those who loved him most.
Left him lost, marching astray,
For all time, followed by their ghosts.
Once upon a time he dreamt
To touch the world’s zenith.
And when time passed, he learnt
To be greater than a myth.
And ashen skies, and furious winds,
Times when he could not cope
With all the odds against just him,
He never dared lose hope.
Through the misty and cold morning,
His rivals strut in neat array.
Today, they’re fighting for their king,
But tomorrow, they’d betray.
Faint phantoms of old bothers,
Change his stillness to a wince.
Though now he fights these warriors,
Once upon a time he was their prince.
He fought just for their freedom,
But liberty they didn’t deem.
He battled for the kingdom
That fought against his dream.
To his valiant men, he vows,
To strive to the last breath
And though vaguely, he knows
That the last resort is death.
Atop his horse, he rides enraged,
Towards a victory so long reprieved.
Today he slays the men
Whom he used to lead.
From the shadows of a decade
He sprints into the war.
And in a swift split second,
All roars fade into a purr.
Not even a lost battle stings,
Nor does the deepest sore
Like do the exhausted wings
That want to flap no more.
He’s not fallen when he bleeds,
Or beaten when in tears,
For the most terrible defeats
Are the relinquishments of dreams.
. However, I think there's a sort of message and it's repeated in different ways throughout the poem; but what's the point of repeating the same thing over and over again? I can see it's about courage to keep fighting till the very end even when the world turns against you and betrays you. When nothing else is constant you just have to keep being constant yourself. Make it much much shorter and more concise because you could.