A Passing Day

There was a day when the sky was red,

The sun beat down upon an empty battlefield,

The slightly rolling wind barely stirred the filthy flags of the god-forsaken armies,

Both of them were enemies,

And both of them had fallen.

Everywhere there lay dead soldiers,

Bloodied, mangled, and unrecognizable corpses littered the ground,

The commanders and generals were crushed under the weight of their precious horses in all their livery and glory,

The stench of death could be smelled for miles,

But no one dared to disturb them in their distilled and infinite slumber.

Tears of somber misery are cried by only one,

The tears of a forgotten sister stain her pale cheeks,

While the pelting rain runs down her face,

Hiding her tears but not her grace.

As the day comes to a close,

The stench of death again presents itself and claims another life for its own,

This time, there is no one to shed any tears.