We can remember still the days when we were almost happy
counting dead flies by the window sill on endless lazy summer afternoons.
But now
alone on our mountain we stand
unarmed and helpless
like trees looking down upon the field
where once our hearts held their last battle
abandoned remains of a broken shield.
Though we survived due to retreat
we must now live only to suffer the pain of our defeat.
Hopeless like fish out of water
we wait for time to forget.
Deep inside we know that one day down below
while sleeping on this sad mound
flowers will rise
there upon the forgotten blood stained ground.
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