Waging War

As they say on 'teh interwebz'... what do they say on the internet, anyway?

I don't know. This is a poem.

Shivering demons have stood. They have waited for this moment. They know.
They Know. They've seen. I know it.
And why else? Why else? Why would they stand?
Why would they stand like this? As men would? Footprints dour to the distance.
Claws hammer at us. Dragged to their feet. From the underbelly.
The man himself sees. He is perched. Ready to watch the bloodshed.

But we stand. We see. We want to look as if looking at the hell gates themselves.
We want to stand as if already at victory. In thought it becomes a reality. We know our reasons.
They have no dominion over them. We know the look in their eye. We know our own eyes. 
The fear. The fear itself that we see. Of course it is here.
Could it ever not be? Could we let ourselves away from it? Knowing how it pierces our eyes and guts?

Yet we stand and know and look to conquer them. The ones who spread this fear. Do they fear?
Perhaps not a fear we know of.  Fear to them is power. The strength comes deep, flowing from within. 

The End

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