With the cool wind through my hair,
And the heart pumping fast,
Standing atop the Fort,
I felt I could see the blast from the past...

I heard the screams of thousands
Marching ahead with swords and sabres,
To wage an unequal war;
They knew for sure
They would kiss death
But still they fought,
Till their blood soaked the green pasture
And the river Parang turned sanguine...

Standing atop the relic,
I witness the gory sight
And reclaim myself...


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