Labels:text | screenshot | font OCR: Harvest Moon Free me Lord, leave me be, I cannot pay you, that you can surely see, The rains do not come, the crops die out, I'd rather not be another body, lying about.' Instead of sympathy, I recieved a smile, I turned back, ready to walk that mile, I must have misunderstood, he asked me to return, He slapped me hard, his face quite stern. I returned home, gathered what I should, I had to give much more than I could, What was I to do, go hungry once more? Or feed my children and feel quite sore? My little boy asked, 'How did it go?' I tried to smile and replied, 'I do not know', As he shrank away, I knew what needed to be done, I would do it all, for the sake of my son. We gathered allies, we would not pay, We would have our rightful say, We have nothing to give, we do not need more pain, Give us some time, all we need is rain' Our Lord stood up, with an evil grin, 'Tis not my concern what could have been, In exchange for this minor task, I give you protection, of me, this you ask?' We shrank away, he was right, We did not have any more will to fight, Time to turn back, to our so called 'home' All the way, my mind seemed to roam. I lay that night, wondering 'Where is the rain, My children and I cannot bear any more pain' , A voice carried in the wind, 'Worry not, the rains will come soon' I stared into the eyes of the Harvest Moon. Sniper/Imperial This poem is originally from the pages of Distorted E-Mag#2 in you case you are wondering. If not, I don't really want to hear about it =)
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