The wind is wrapping at our necks trying to make us fret.Darkness consumes the sky yet we do not cry for our armor is of shinny gold.The ground is made of green razors. Every step we take you will hear the sound of glass breaking.The earth shakes as if a stampede awakens.The air is dry and lingers with the smell of fresh sweat.Laughter slowly arises amongst us.A dripping sound echos around us but not of rain for it is the blood that leaks out of our veins.Our faces have met the ground and gotten back up but yet again cut down.The ground we stand upon is ours always and forever.We protect it for our fallen.Friends today and tomorrow we die , fallen as one this thus make us cry.
