by Nick Gisburne
A battlefield of broken, bloody dreams.
The warriors who suffered here, today,
Were ill-equipped to counter such extremes.
Exhausted, all resistance drains away.
Survivors, three, retreating from the beast,
Avoid the mouth, the murder of its reach.
They look for reinforcements, always east,
But nothing stirs the seas beyond the beach.
They rally for a reckless, savage surge,
And swing their swords with courage, heroes all,
But on this day no champions emerge.
The final three, defeated, dying, fall.
Three children, fighting dragons in the sand,
A story only they can understand.
