Strewn across the battlefield a party of discarded heads,
Peeled, dripping as blood oranges,
Wrapped in a residue of wrinkled skin,
A ****** of crows circle over head,
Waiting to collect rich pickings,
Leftover lunch from the spoils of war!

Stench of evil fills the ***** air,
As a lone piper,
Plays his mournful lament of sorrow,
Deeply disturbed by unkind vision of sin!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)