Last March

Tears rolling down our cheeks,
A drum beating on the odds.

This is the life we chose,
This is the time we loved,
This is the moment we will remember.

These ever turning seasons have been amazing,
These never failing tears,
Never ending bloodstains coat the world around us.
The stench we learned to love.
These are the hardest,
But the best of times.

So we march into the darkness.
Shakos backwards,
For we are the victoriouse,
Unaware of the final outcome of the night.
Shoulders moving,
Always united by the drum.
Feet clicking,
Slower then usual,
Embracing the tears.

This is our last march.
This is our last time.
This is ours.

Reminising on the good and bad,
Reliving the still beating.
This is our time.
We deserved it.