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the hunter is stalking his pray,
today is not the hunted's day,
for they shall be dead,
in a shallow bed,
that is not quite a grave,
but better than the brave,
who was left in a field,
to rot with nothing but his sheild,
to protect him from decay,
and now he shall play,
along with warriors in the meadow,
who have become a shadow,
of a war,
that has created lore,
of how those who fought,
were finally taught,
that life is not very long,
though it pays to be strong,
for those who are weak,
and very meek,
are cut down,
and thrown to the ground,
and lay in a heap,
letting their blood seap,
into the dirt,
where those who are hurt,
are sent to be healed,
so that they may fight again on the battle feild.