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Wardog
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The soldier marches on.
The dust clouds and vibrant orange-red sky paints a blue shadow over the trenches, with the fleeting wounded sun vanishing in the west, the sight of dead, carbonized trees slowly withers from view.
He steps over puddles of mud and dead, he stamps his boots with the blood of the fallen.
Amidst the chaos, the shrapnel, the incessant screaming and the tormented crying, the soldier needs to march.
Because the enemy will.
Keep up the great work
i like this >:)
Brilliant Work
I AM READY TO DIE NOW!
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