War


I heard cries of women and children as crimson stains filled the street.
I could not go outside without getting cold feet.
The air was no longer warm and sunny, all you could see was death.
The scent of flowers was extinct as you smelled the fumes of rotting flesh.
Men lied there bloody without life,
their bodies covered with ravishing mice.
I remember hearing the loud guns,
the smoke from tanks blocking the sun.
The day was as night.
Even at noon, there was no light.
"It needed to be done," was what I was told.
Was it really worth it, seeing the corpses dead and cold?
I will never forget the murderer's name who knocked on my door.
His voice still haunts me;
His name was War.

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