Blood colours the land with red
Mutiliated bodies decorate these ruins;
hear the silence cry.
Comrades and friends lost to gore
Every bullet piercing another heart;
see through the blinded eye.
Air smells of decay as the corpses live
No human nor animal in sight;
talk to yourself a beautiful lie.
Blood oozes out of fresh wounds of victory
No win or loss, the pain feels no more;
drag on till you sigh.
Thunderous claps welcome the hero
The victor, the last man standing;
Or, the next one to die.
2 comments:
Victor and the Victim makes for a lovely topic any day. I could see the "last man standing" in every person..... almost.
just one word....awsome.....
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