Milites Mortis

We are the ones, who didn’t fight,
Or cry or shoot, in the firefight,.
Running away, from colossal tanks,
Losing men, they die on the banks.
Death and fear, fills the fields,
Weapons of destruction, are what we wield.
Anyone who was able, was sent to war,
Revenge was sought, as the angels saw.
Only the strongest, survived the onslaught,
Nobody hesitated, as they bravely fought.
Everything was lost, their lives were the cost.