Hall of the Slain
“With Glory surely ahead
The winds filled with the scent of home
Id rather be here instead, war is never out grown
Calm sea’s is all I see…searching for that storm”
The dragon age disintegrates all
That has been and regenerates none
Prolific lit tongue integrates rhetoric
In the faces of our sons, now pessimists ‘
From the fear of all out pestilence.
So they cower the cowards sour at the
Site of the beast
But we must defend……
She’s a feet, a monument of a task
With said fact we march east
To kill the scaly hag
A steady wind and sturdy boat
A ready sword and lumpy throat
Nerves itching from under the skin
Wars inching closer, its wonder is sin
To the pits we march and death steps aside
We tip toe in the mush, almost burning alive
Up the river bend and through the flames
the dragon is set to play its raindeer games
