Ronin

Forlorn and hungry, aching from the fall of our sanctuary,
We stop at the place of leaves, staring in wonder
Like the joy-bound screams of children, loud and boisterous,
Gentle and carefree
There is nothing to be said, only known
Young men carry sticks, as we weild swords
Nothing hidden goes unrevealed
On cold days, we climb to the mountain peak
Familiar like wolves we are, traveling from city to city,
Finding and f*****g; feeding and foaming at the mouth
No assurance in life, death is our only certainty

Reviews

[Bette]

wow very descriptive. well done!