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