oh my sweet, true, armageddon.
Softly creeping, through a gentle night,
Violent thumping, pilliage, plight!
Screams and cries heard e'ver the more,
often cut short by a orcish long-sword.
"Oh woe is us, oh woe is me" one young man cried.
Thinking, really, where is -she-???
Women and children, holy and damned,
all are one and death-be-damned.
thoughtless loss and thankless feast,
do transpire to engineer this days waste,
hatred, need, begets this awful 'morn.
those days of old shall become days of now,
-- cover your head with a pillow.
Have a great thanksgiving weekend, Laura.