Some how I seemed to have wandered far from the line of sanity, to a place, not another line, of complete suffering harm. Gruesome yet kindly teasing to the senses of pain. I can see the ghostly pallor of the sorrowed souls of my lost beings, families, unknowns.

My feet; squared shoulders, alligned with the star-stretched sky of night, so braken and bleak, wind whispers to me like a sinful caress telling its evil manifests of sinister quells, comitted to the unseeing victims, who blinded by false pretenses of life, are so easily sucumbed as prey to their own reeper.

Once ago, as a youthful manner, I, Myself, an idiot to the capers of the world, stood, a man of letters, in ludacris and intranced, had not known that in all, laid a man of war and deceit.

A flick with my transparent wrist, which felt like a slice to fog, my horse, as dark as onyx, nieghs and heeds-a hoof forward into a galloping sprint into the dreadful, gray drome leading to the clouded gates, towering deliciously ready to delude the common, simply devouring them to the grips of eternal hell.

In the darkness of fleeting shadows, it's feline-like ways, haunting the recess of my mind and soul. My heartbeat trembles higher, ears but sharpened, tricking my sixth sense, I am soon too close, I feel it's presence phasing in closer perimeter.

Crimson rain floods about me, an ocean, where as my horse eludes me, gone, now tis only I, alone. I swear it true, not likely can there be found another with me, yet why does the primal instinct tick like a bomb unwilling to escape.

The world filming in my vision, memories I beleive, I do not wish to re-witness such brutallity and tragic fate, and so as if my life where a candle the wind blew me out and I knew no more...except I was a strong soldier.



P.S. i had a few comments asking if this were a sucidal story... no it is not just a poetic view through a dying soldiers eyes. :(