Amy Darnbrook

The battleground is smeared with
The blood of wounded soldiers
Of both sides, who died
Bravely, defending their people

The battleground rings with
The yells of men, as they
Are pinned to the ground by
A hailstorm of grey bullets

The battleground tastes of
Metal, blood and smoke
As cannons rumble, guns shout
Screaming for mercy

The battleground stinks of
A thousand rotting corpses
They were alive but an hour ago
But were killed in pure hate

The battleground is
Empty now, but I still hear
All that was, and all that
Will be, death and destruction

The battleground laughs at
The men, wondering why
They fight over money, when
They can just share it, without death