Brony-Drifter

Rain By: Tyler K. A constant rain, but not of drops A constant rain, from munitions shops The ground is forever shaking, from that incessant roar A constant rain, of shells that soar They care not what they may hit The sick, the dying, the innocent The horror ensues, day after day At least until they make their play But wait, whats this? It rains no more This means one thing, we scramble from the floor We take up positions, rifles at the ready Another rain will ensue, one of gruesome confetti They throw themselves at us, like a great dark fist Yelling and screaming as they charge through the mist A rifle cracks, a machine-gun begins to chatt