Written during my junior year, in September 2009.

The footsteps march in unison.

The well trained soldiers all in line.

Like clockwork, but surer.

Rhythmic beat of black shoes on flat pavement.

Not a sound but the well calculated paces.

Not in battle, but prepared at any second.

Like a loaded gun, sat loose in holster.

Never faster, never slower.

Sergeant calls out drills in clear voice.

Loud so all soldiers hear. All obey.

A sound and sight so rigid, but somehow beautiful. 

This is nothing like war.

This is our military in their polished shoes and perfectly straightened clothes.

It's pretty, but this is not them at their finest.

The End

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