They say it was a shocking sight, After the field was won, For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun; But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory. Gray and sullen it was, but daylight all the same. Through the years Bushrod had seen the dawn come to many fields, after many hard fights, and it was always a sacred moment to him--proof that the universe was still intact in spite of the blood on the ground, the hosts of Departed beginning their first day in eternity, the dead horses and broken gun carriages and scattered equipment--in spite of all the panoramic ruin of the battlefield so brutal and grotesque that it was a wonder God did not bury it in darkness forever--and with it the guilty living, who crept from their holes or their stiff blankets and looked about with astonishment on what they had done.
But God never would bury it. He always seemed to want to start over again, whether out of anger or pity Bushrod could not say. And now here was another dawn, after another great fight, and once more God had permitted Bushrod Carter to live.
Bred for Battle—Understanding Ancient Sparta’s Military Machine
War-heat recedes. Sacred soul-sister silently pleads For only peace, which never has been. Only has such been seen within A soul with the humblest, most basic needs. That soul I've fleetingly seen before, Crossing my path when I'd naught left in store- Nothing to which war-poet may run. Soul-sister-Soul-Angel- seeing poet undone, Paused, to hand war-poet gold from her Core.
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But oh! And now its a battlefield among all. At the end, the character of that country will be determined by whichever group wins! I'm the tolerant one that he's blessed to have. Im not the Apple of anyone's eye. I'm not the one longed for or the one that is dreamed about. I am the woman that sticks around and gives her all. Im not the woman that he's always wanted. I remember writing a song for him and he blew it off. I remember trying to spoil him and he barely reacted.. I remember feeling foolish for him and he quickly became comfortable and then I was just "the wife".
I remember being told that "I cheated him" as if I deliberately decieved him and little did I know I was the one who was being deceived. I was being looked down on. I would never compare. I was not good enough in the eyes of him, her or the family. I remember trying to motivate only to be blamed for being part of the reason for poor family ties.
I remember having to stand up for myself.
I remember giving birth multiple times only to feel afterwards that maybe he wished it had been someone else baring his children. Ive read oh God what you think of me. I'm losing the battle in my mind.
How many times will I take up arms in this battle only to find myself dying to sleep and waking up to fight it all over again. This woman will not die and the fight is not changing. It's like a self defeat life loop of my reincarnated self. Just thinking. Among these sounds were frequent revolver-shots—surely not uncommon on a battlefield, but distinctly uncommon in an hospital. Lovecraft, Herbert West: Reanimator. I am the one turning to face the faceless hunter in the woods on an abandoned highway.
I am the one not running, not staying, but facing. Because if I am the last one, then I am humanity. Gleaming Grips of Mending Raid Finder. Grimfist Crushers Raid Finder. Notorious Combatant's Plate Gauntlets. Notorious Aspirant's Plate Gauntlets. Notorious Gladiator's Plate Gauntlets. Notorious Gladiator's Plate Gloves.
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