Blood stains have dried,
Battlefield gone silent.
A war has waged,
The peaceful turned violent.
Weapons used and abused,
They litter the ground,
The bodies removed,
Leaving only empty sounds.
A winner. A winner?
Who can win such games?
The blood pain poured out,
Tribute to misguided aims.
The winner lies in who lives,
Who manages to survive.
He that learns to love the war,
Lies on the winning side.
This war was not ordinary,
No quibbling little parts.
This was war of the worst,
That of two bitter hearts.
The battlefield, now in ruin,
Was not always so.
Once it was a field of beauty,
Where life and love did grow.
Slowly, slowly, over time,
The field began to die.
The caring became careless,
Battle beginning with a lie.
Skirmishes and little tussles,
First seemed so ordinary.
But each ended without resolve,
Leaving both sides wary.
Then finally a skirmish broke,
Into what both had feared.
It seemed then the war begun,
The ending quickly neared.
Full fledged attacks, raining down,
Left wounds open and bleeding.
Pain and hatred flowed together,
To watch the love receding.
Tirelessly both sides battled,
Seeming doomed to contend.
Until the day the black notes played,
And one side saw an end.
He saw that she now loved the pain,
Got high on each ****** drop.
He knew that to continue was loss,
That it all must come to stop.
He won the war by losing,
By losing the last of his heart.
He crawled away, clutching scars,
Knowing he must depart.
A winner, winner? Yes indeed,
It is he who can survive.
She lost herself to the blood lust,
And he scarcely saved his life.
I was he who crawled away,
I lost my heart by choosing.
Though scars still remain,
I won the war by losing.