He sat in a room in a square of the color of blood. He'd rule the whole world if there was a way that he could. He'd sit and he'd stare at the minreds on top of the towers. For he was a beast as he hatched his new plans to gain power.
And the snow fell covering the dreams and ideals. And the snow fell freezing the blood and the wheels. And the snow fell they had to keep up for survival. And the snow fell defeating the beast's only rival.
They took the old roads that Napoleon had taken before. They fought as a force as a light against the darkness in a holy war. One day they were looking around and the sun was shining on the cold flowers. The next day they were freezing to death in the sleet and the ice cold showers.
Then came the deadly roads back from the stairs of their retreat. The cold racked their bodies but worse was the pain of defeat. Many people who had hailed them once now turned and looked away. These people now knew that the beast was on it's way.
You finally came back to the borders of your fatherland. Now enemies came traitors everywhere at hand. Many people who had fought and died knowing that they had to win. It still sickens my heart to see the picture of the red flag in Berlin.