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Account Of A Soldier

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Blood reaches into the Earth, stretching grubby, scarlet fingers.
The battlefield hovers above,
Shattered by the raging silence of the dead.
Fragments falling into an eternal nowhere.

I see no more color,
Just the blank, white faces of those lost.
Just scattered shells,
And a dry wind to drive the scent away
Leaving no trace of souls,
Once vehemently shrieking in strife.

It’s like a sudden silence,
In a room full of murmurs.

A breathtaking flash,
In a blackened sky.

I look to the heavens,
While blood descends into Hell,
And see nothing but an ashen blue,
And bloodstained butterflies.





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