Something different.

I wanted to do some writing tonight, but didn't feel up to writing a story, so I tried something new. Here's a little freelance poetry for you.

We by J.D. Oliva

When we roll across the moors

We fear death through open doors,

We ape the sky and bail at the moon

We cross the tracks that spell our doom.

We ask the sky “when will you fall”

We cry at the loss of our mother's call

We fight the light of all that speaks

We light the fight at those who teach.

We run through the grass and hold our loves

We chase the dragon who looked like doves

Who are we to pass such doubt

Who are we to scream and shout

We are those who ask what's best.

We are those who've passed the test.

We stand tall, we stand right

We owned up when we lost the fight

We wrestled the angels and fought the beasts

We won the day and joined the feasts.

Who are we who write such tomes?

We are those who write terrible poems!