They Are Coming (A Poem)
Posted By: cruviu_343<cruviu343@charter.net>
Date: 2 March 2005, 12:37 AM
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This poem doesn't rhyme. But it doesn't have to anyway.
It's hard to be a grunt,
in this lonely, lonely world.
They give us crap weapons,
no shields, noting.
The jackals are even better,
than our kind.
At least I'm the best.
The black grunts.
Those who carry the Feul Rod Cannon.
Decent weapon.
I hear the marines.
They are coming in Warthogs,
and their Pelicans.
They have a spartan.
Spartan 117 that is.
The strongest of his kind.
He's also known as "Master Chief."
Wait!
I hear them.
They are coming.
They are trying,
trying to bash down the door.
I hear a boom.
Dust and Echoes...
Dust...
And Echoes...
I know this sucked, but it was decent for a first attempt.
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