As the fire grows, and you take the blows, the real fight begins.

Shots coming for the outside and within.

The city crumples and the shouts ring clear, all hope begins to disappear.

But in the dark times a light will still burn, were hope still churns.

A horn blares as the enemy glares. Inside the fallen walls they here the emeay calls.

They charge out of the almost broken gate to where the enemy does await! 

They shall take no more misery as they scream out their victory! 

For the dark might get strong but the flame will burn on!

Because the darkness will always fail and the light will always prevail.

Yet it is hard to remember in those times, but we must do our best to keep the flame of hope in our minds.

For it is the fate that evil must await. 

Doom is what they send and also how they end. 


This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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