Welcome to Librarium Online!
Join our community of 80,000+ members and take part in the number one resource for Warhammer and Warhammer 40K discussion!
Registering gives you full access to take part in discussions, upload pictures, contact other members and search everything!
The light becones me back to the infinate wasteland of life,
My eyes distraught by the lives wasted hopelessly, by the tears, blood, and lives all wasted on a false dream,
My feet wavering in uncertanty upon the stone street, a black river flowing, yet not.
My hands tainted by the foulness of the world.
I walk with distraught eyes, wavering feet, and tainted hands, my mind feeling the changes of the world.
I look around into the eyes of the dead, metal filled with blood so red,
I stare down at their bodies covered in blood, their bodies strewn like a lifeless flood,
I meet their ghoulish stares, they are dead yet no-one cares,
I feel as by killing them ive done much good, but then i find that without them they can still continue their brood,
I look towards the rising mist, the cries of battle still amiss,
My life seems like its falling,
But it seems this is my calling,
If they come again, i will enter the fray, ever relentless till my dying day.
Give me pen and ill write you a novel, give me a pick and ill play you a masterpiece, give me a heart, and ill give you love.
Simply an amazing poem Riptor, it has such a good rhythm to it, great work.