The BattleA Poem by ChristineA little piece I wroteWORDS like ants skittering all over, numbers haphazardly strewn across the page. Bloody slashes mark the snowy graves of my fallen soldiers, comrades. Betrayed by me. My sword, the magician, the necromancer, creating, destroying, creating until the perfection is achieved" but it’s not! Turn tail, retreat like the coward again. Quick in pursuit, it follows. © 2011 ChristineAuthor's Note
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Added on November 9, 2011 Last Updated on November 9, 2011 AuthorChristineSeattle, WAAboutedit: 9.21.11 I haven't been on in several months, I'm sorry about that, I'll try to be more active! I've been going through a rough patch lately and all my writing hasn't been all that decent... I.. more..Writing
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