Stretched out upon the cold, hateful ground
Like the dead, unseeing eyes raised to the sky.
The heart half-alive screams, ever profound
As blood spilled in rage begins to dry.
The battle (if such it could really be called)
In swiftness, was vicious and reeking of spite.
As artful a hate that could ever be trawled,
It wielded the darkest of furious might.
And harking to the fear drenched those dug in below
The shrieking black fate did seek out their woe;
Brandishing its shadow, driving all to their knees
It shattered trembling hearts with a terrorizing blow.
Claws tempered in murder and rage
Traced sanity’s edges with deceiving grace
Ticking along scales til they clicked upon weakness
Then thrust and seared in all manner of vengeance.
A call to retreat! A panic to fly!
The most dastardly then did their actions decry.
Turned from honor, loyalty, nobility, and faith
And fled from their creed, fearing their death.
Now we do face a life only half lived,
Handing to ourselves our years deprived
In recourse to our lives fully and freely given
Laid down, our blood spilled, for the destiny we believe in.
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