Prompt: Today’s form is ottava rima.
It is eight lines in iambic pentameter with a rhyme scheme of abababcc.
The mountains stand behind this dark, cold place
As gray as clouds, the mountains rise and loom
The city thrives beneath this dark embrace
And trains to fight a world creeping toward doom
The people live with pride and kill with grace
Under the mountains, silent, gray with gloom
No one from here escapes the mountains’ grasp
They bear their burdens, perform deadly tasks