My Army Poem by Noah Mullins

They say that you're dying each day. Closer and closer to laying in your grave; to decay. Slipping from peoples memories and losing yours; wasting away. Getting scared now? You better pray.

But I don't agree, you see. As death no longer terrifies me. Yes, I guarantee it will be, but not without a fight for history. An army was created; great numbers by my decree. Seven fresh recruits each week, who back what I believe and follow my lead.

They say that you're dying each day. But i do not agree. My infantry grows as each sundown goes by; putting more life behind me.