Work Text:
The scene unfolding before me, is one of great pain;
The rain of fire, of disease and metal.
The songbirds of death sing as the land goes away
Cries of pain come before us, from ours and theirs; maybe beyond
Who knows if this will ever be worth the cost?
And they fall
And fall
And fall
will the red ever cease, the crimson lands stop crying?
they’re similar to us, in a way; are they better or worse?
I feel the shockwaves even now, even when in relative security
The smell of rotting
of mud and blood
of gunpowder and smoke
And the lack thereof as they charge us
with the drink of death.
Burning, is all there is
for the ones on the land as they charge
to the dragon of steel and soot.
the feeling of heat, unquenchable thirst
one day, the shells fall, their searing beats scaring even the bravest of men
and some cower away, this life becomes too much.
They are branded cowards, but others know better.
To god we pray that we soon cease this lunatic folly before it’s too far gone.