Something rotting and decomposing
Scattered weapons upon withered earth.
The soil upturned from struggles between men.
The ground consumes the blood.
This land soon becoming hungry for man.
Shrill cries of agony and death.
Bellows of man charging forward.
Hoping to live another day.
Sweat and stench clench the bodies
Of men alive and men dead.
Their corpses are nameless.
Ties between fact and fiction
Become a blur, none too distinguishable.
There are those that hide, hoping for
It all to just disappear, only to be found.
No mercy shall be shown.
For this is a war against Gods.
Men blinded to see that it was a just cause.
That the death of man brings forth the life
Of a just and noble God.
Fighting for their families and land.
Pillaging and ravishing.
Tearing apart homes, lives, families.
Fighting to do what is what they believe is right.
For nothing more than an opinion.
Or even for plunder.
The clashing metal of swords and shields
Lead to turmoil and hate.
What could be brothers are now enemies.
What could have been happy is now afraid and sad.
But we are all just fighting for what we believe in.
The scribing of pen on paper.
Of the sound of voice to the open air.
The splatter of paint to canvas.
It is all thought of as our own personal battle.