The war won by cowards.

Not heroes strong and true

Always knowing what to do.

Skinny little boys

Fear rattling their bones

Terror shaking their hands

Trying to aim at heads and hearts

Similarly quaking.

Souls such as these won every war

Girding their loins

Deciding action to protect their own,

To defeat the enemy,

To take back the land

More important than their fright.

The cost is great,

Young men upon dying

Finally sharpened their fear

Into courage in acts of debut bravery.

And now remembered as heroes

As they should be.

Courage casting its lustrous shadow

Backwards upon all past deeds

Redeeming them before falling on its sword.

– Vagabond Prophet