Lakónia

We march from dear Lakonia, from sacred lands we march.
Let the others scurry for cover we rush to bear witness.
We are born into this godforsaken hell.
If we are small, puny, sick or misshaped we are the maggots in your world.

We are starved driven to steal fight and kill.
We are tested tossed into the wild.
Left to pit our wits and will in a world in flames.
By rod and lash we are punished trained to show no pain at all.

Into hell's mouth we march.
Snorting snarling desert beasts.
Pledged to crush every bone in me.
And we will make slaves of the only free men this world has ever known.

No time to slow our march...
We felt this world through an open wound.
"When one does not see what one does not see, one does not even see one is blind."
And we do not see the fetters, and we do not see the shackles, and we do not see what we have lost.
We can not see ourselves.
Where we lie broken.

Better to die with it than live without it.
The mere life he had left was nothing to him now.