Good men

“Good men,the last wave by crying how bright.there frail deeds might have danced in a green bay rage,rage against the dying of the light.”

 as the light went out so did they setting camp for days on end. Looking up to the skys praying for better days.

Blood crusted on loved ones faces and lives flashing before there very eyes.But the fight not lost for they needed to know that the ones who were lost were not in vein.

marching forward and fighting onward. No one stood in the way of these good men. 

The last wave now crying songs that bellow out a rage like gleem. Words so powerful it feels as if there made for them. 

No one stands in the way of these good men.almost home now, almost free of there rage, but these good men know that they’ll never be rid of there rage. 

The stories that they’ll tell.the common folk trying to understand. On front pages with faces made of stone.and great words written about these good men.