Prose and poetry from the fetid depths of my mind. Watch your step.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
17 years
For 117 years they had been running across the endless plains, rivers, hills, one landmass after another. They passed hundreds of tribes, villages and cities, always inferior, always conquered. These brief skirmishes, sometimes billowing into full-scale campaigns, offered a brief respite for the People, a time to repopulate and repair aging vehicles. The process was always the same; take what the can, scorch the rest. Priceless artifacts of unknown cultures and crude art all burned in the same fire, for the People must remember their past, and not dilute itself in the waters of fallen foes.
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