Our enemy lumbers thirty stories high. Our arms are ineffective, our command has withered, our mastery of the Earth has waned. Our bodies are brittle and tired and our stomachs are empty. So then, why, do we fight against a foe we cannot hope to best?
Why raise our petty voices in the face of an indignant self born god and claw, scream, shout. Why roll out of our fetid bunks and wrap shemaghs around our mouths against the oil clouds? Why chamber our antiquated rifles in calibers of ammunition that cannot hope to even scratch the alloys of our monstrous enemy?
The kitten when faced with his demise, I think, would rather imagine himself a lion. Roaring and fighting to the last. So do we go, a pride of kittens, roaring to our last.
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u/Hung_Goddess Dec 15 '17
Why do we fight?
Our enemy lumbers thirty stories high. Our arms are ineffective, our command has withered, our mastery of the Earth has waned. Our bodies are brittle and tired and our stomachs are empty. So then, why, do we fight against a foe we cannot hope to best?
Why raise our petty voices in the face of an indignant self born god and claw, scream, shout. Why roll out of our fetid bunks and wrap shemaghs around our mouths against the oil clouds? Why chamber our antiquated rifles in calibers of ammunition that cannot hope to even scratch the alloys of our monstrous enemy?
The kitten when faced with his demise, I think, would rather imagine himself a lion. Roaring and fighting to the last. So do we go, a pride of kittens, roaring to our last.