Yukimura

Deception saps the strength from me.
It eats away at my illusions.
I wrap myself in sweet simplicity.
I hold to my beautiful ideals.
Time after time deception creeps in.
An octapus that wraps itself around.
It grabs my illusion and tears it away.
And when I have no defense left,
It razor beak bites into my soul.
Its poison runs through my veins.
It taints the source of what I am.
So that it courses through my being.
No escape from the endless cycle.
Yet I fight, and I know why.

(Yeah, I love the prompts analog. Send them over any time you feel you've got a good one.)

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Maybe the answer is in the very light reflected off our blades. Maybe that's what it means to be this creature known as samurai.