The land bleeds red, as soldiers
Of man have fallen,
For now the wet mud their graves,
Their helmets there grave stone for the
Skull
Kept
Whole.
Death walks on this battlefield
Of man, its pages long,
The reapers take those
Whom death has touched.
Gone to a better place where no
Pain is felt, as their agony of the
Battlefield sent
Sane
Men
Mad.
There is a place on the battlefield
Where a flower does bloom,
A place that is of peace in a field of death.
For where death falls,
Life
Will
Blossom
When the ground heals, and man has
Left this place.
This was once a place of death
And now a single flower grows
Where so many did fall.