Thursday, September 12, 2013
...it is September 12th, 2013
Four arrows drawn from our foe's quiver.
Set loose to pierce our fabric
and break our spirit near that river.
Three find their mark,
spilling blood and life with nary a thought.
Death dealt with abandon,
for what was said, we ourselves wrought.
We nearly fell...some truly did.
That sadness brought our furies.
...and in turn, it was our foe that hid.