So why am i still standing here,
alone,
prepared for bloody battles.
Shield hangin limply in my caloused hand.
Sword swaying at my side.
I know there's an uneasy confusion smeared on my face.
Aren't there suposed to be flames thundering up from the ground in front of me?
The only thing bursting from the ground is baby's breath and daisies.
This battle field is full of daises.
The dead anti-christ stories have been carried away for their mass burial.
Baptism five years past,
but i never moved from my spot in this field.
As if the devil is going to pop out of the surrounding forest
and brand his name upon my forehead as i sleep.
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