A poem.

Softly falls our solemn step,

As for him we do search, 

Scattered across the ground we do see him lurch,

With steely barrels  pointed about, we crept on,

But onward to victory we go,

Knowing not our way home,

Softly falls our broken step,

Scattered by days of black,

Wishing our lives into the dark cracks.

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