A/N
This is based on the poem The Silkworms by Douglas Stewart. However, I wanted to try and reverse the themes. The original poem displayed a sense of security in their circumstances. In this, I wanted to convey the same theme of servitude, but without the security. As such, I needed to decide on which downtrodden race to use in a universe I'm familiar with. Suffice to say, it didn't take me long to settle on the Grunts.
Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to the Halo series. If I did, I wouldn't have the Cyclops in Halo Wars jumping around like something out of a Japanese anime.
Servitude
All their lives in war. The san'shyuum, the sangheili,
Long lines of warlords, cruel by nature.
Even though needing their labor, the creatures know their place,
That even under sunlight golden,
Or moonlight's breath on a fair wind,
Not a ghost of hope exists for them.
...
Small enough to be children's toys, and treated as such,
Though they can climb, they can walk, they move throughout the stars.
But hush, they say, for we are imprisoned.
No ancestral voices to guide them,
In dreams too deep for wind or word to find them.
...
Many are young, few are old,
The roads of their lives are often cut short.
So full of life outside battle, devoid of life within it.
They hide when they can, where it is safe,
Whispering in the darkness, fearing the enemy.
Fearing the Demons.
...
They stir, believing the coast clear. They then remember,
It was forbidden to hide in the first place.
Violent hands descend like claps of thunder,
The harsh tongues of their masters striking like lightning.
Unconsciousness grants them unimaginable bliss,
For in waking there is terror, hope an abyss.
...
And before them are the bodies of their enemy,
Races that could have been gentle and kind together.
Unity is only now possible in death's embrace.
They kneel down, both species vermin in the eyes of their masters.
In the darkness of war the only relief is by dying
And as man and unggoy ascend, both dream that they are flying.