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Must We?
Marching toward a new glory can seem so futile.
At first, your cause is worthy.
You want to fight; you’d kill.
But over time, it seems worthless.
You dwell on impossible dreams
While your feet trudge endlessly through the agony.
Your eyes fuse open struggling to block the coming tragedy.
The act of vanquishing can turn on you.
But you keep pushing
Through the hate,
Through the scorn.
It’s all about the end, the feeling, the honor in death.
