the great flood

walden freeman

so by the river
we'd slept soundly
afraid
on the pillars we walked on
stilts of sorts
fought and fought on
and on and began to realize
there was no end
to our scripts
rolled out from scrolls
they snapped back suddenly
we could not measure
our failure
and we kept alive
sipping from the moat
until it was gone
and the battles had become
more bloody
and a knight dies
every morning