May 17, 2012
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Remember the blood,
the smell of salt, rust, and gunpowder
the blank look upon their faces
as they lay there.
The pounding hoof-beats as swordsmen rush by

I run on,

hearing the sounds of injured brothers
as the guns and cannons ring out.
So many fallen, so many gone.

The clash of metal brings me back to reality,
my bloodied mail sticks to my back, and my arms and legs are sore.
I wish I could lie down right here and sleep,
but no, I may have no peace.
I feel no pain as I run into the heart of battle on my bloodstained horse and scream

For Freedom!

My friends and neighbors turned against me for money and power.


I don't react, its just instinct,
I don't even think about it anymore.
I slash and parry,
thrust and dodge,
then, one by one, they all fall,
crumbling lifeless at my feet.
I stand on a mountain of bodies.
People, with friends, families, hopes and dreams,
fighting because they were told it was right.
They believed the lies, so they died.

I move on, no one is left, it is me, alone on the field of battle, and I scream.
The next seconds are black,
blinded by pain,
and then...peace,
nothing but peace.
I'm ready.
Its like I'm floating, no sinking
into the dark depths of a lake.
Finally comfort and quiet,
only the most battle worn soldier would welcome this feeling,
the feeling of death.

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