Cobra's

Whispers of the war echo throughout, A silent hum of fear, a serpent's shout. Cobras slither in the dead of night, Scales of shadow, eyes of light. Beneath the moon's cold, silver gaze, They glide through fields where fire razes. Hissing through the silent screams, They haunt the edges of our dreams. Venomous fangs, sharp as steel, A bite that makes the bravest kneel. In tangled jungles, they lie in wait, Guardians of a vengeful fate. The drums of war beat far and near, Their rhythmic pulse, a call to fear. Cobras rise from ancient lore, To weave their tale in blood and war. Each strike a story, each battle won, By moonlit night or dawning sun. Silent killers, shadows cast, In the war that whispers through the past....