The Battle

As I face the foul demons,
There's a scent of blood in the air,
Within this silence of battle,
We only exchange a glance a glare,

There is no time for weakness,
Nor success if we hold fear,
The enemy screams with blood lust,
Our battle is drawing near,

We check that we are ready,
That every man is stern,
My face says that I'm ready,
Yet my gut begins to churn,

They are charging at us,
Not a sane thought in my mind,
My sword is all but ready,
I refuse to fall the line,

Hearing the metal clashing,
Screams from ear to ear,
My stomach taken the slashing,
My end draws near,

I remember those days in the fields,
When we used to smile and play,
It is that freedom i wish to protect,
The reason I died this day.