Drums

The drums, again. From out there in the forest, the animals are using hollow logs and human-skin drums to propagate their lies and deceit. Just after the sun sets, the drumming starts again to usher in the darkness. They know where we are hiding. Why don’t they come and finish us off? Why do they allows us weak moments of hope? If our kind are ending, and the outcome is inevitable, writ in stone, we should embrace out fate and charge into the darkness, break their drums, stand up and show what we truly are. I’ve had enough of the cave and it’s shadows, debating the nature of goodness and evil. Give me a staff or blade and let me cut my way through tonight and welcome the dawn with red-stained hands.

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