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Young minds wander

Of their future

Their most probable demise

Infecting their thoughts

They look to the skies

The sun rises

Rays of light flow

Across the frozen glade

A picture of beauty

Soon to be stained

The warlord gathers his army

On this day of uncertainty

Suddenly a voice breaks the calm

The warlord cries: "Men, to Arms!"

The soldiers reach the killing ground

where hate and pain are to be found

As the gods survey the field

the anxious soldiers grip their shields

The gods of war know no remorse

The only death is by the sword

Prepared for battle

Ready for war

Blood of men will spill

on to the land

for which they shall kill

Conflict commences

determination

fighting for the horde

A soldiers best friend

is his sword