Like Toy Solidiers

We fall down, spit, fight get ready for battle. Almost like it's mandatory- oh but that wouldn't be story. It'd ruin the plans, lose all the fans, take a way that unique quality, of taking pride, giving hope- hope that lasts, continually holds respect, faith. But that's already gone. Deleted, erased, punctured- to the point it's hiding, ready to pounce like those raging cheetahs- ready to snatch, anything in sight, there will be no fight, only blood. And though you see the fangs overhang the body, the body that just looks limp, un-animal. It reveals a sense of purity, serenity, and that sick twisted smirk painted onto the freckled body- runs. Like a coward before it's enemy- but there is no enemy- only species of the same, lurking patiently. And that's when the coward comes to life, afraid of its own kind, terrified at a look, judgment, movement. It's no longer the same species now it lies in the grass scope set on you 3-2-1 sniped.