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Into the Moat
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Empty Shell
We shall dread the forthcoming
Every second sears me
As my anticipation drips
Stepping back to where it started
Grasping my first weapon
As a protector, wearing my armor
Swollen with pride, having the initiative
Without insight, training will be an aid
And debriefing ensues
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Intelligence will serve us well
But nothing could ever truly prepare
This is what we dread
Strategy ripped from my mind in cold blood
Replaced with mere survival, what have I become?
But I have not yet begun to fight
And I will not be deterred
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