Halo Poetry 101: Killing Stuff
Posted By: Brian Alexandrowicz<balexandro@comcast.net>
Date: 1 November 2003, 9:29 PM
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In the futre, a great warrior was born,
Built to kill, with no room to mourn.
His instincs are perfected, not a flaw in sight,
With the ability to flip a warthog with his might.
He fights and runs,
He picks up shotties, and uses artillery guns.
He wishes not to be,
Behind him, death as far as the eye can see.
His name is Master chief...
And he fights without any grief.
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