Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Marchers

Deep down below, in the stink of the grass,
we toil and strive. Our duty is simple:
keep one another alive.

We march missing limbs,
we march without eyes.
Suffering no conscience, duty and struggle chart the course of our lives.

The dead do not alarm us, and we accept them among us,
each black shriveled body reminds us:
forward.
forward.
forward.

The march is for life, a life surrounded by death.
As we are many, we shall not expire.
So we march, we march, we march, and dare not do we tire.

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