Death

There are screams and wails all around, The gore and stench permeate the ground. Some lives are missing—oh, death has found Hell on Earth, the red background. The blade is sharp; it has no glow, There is a cut, yet blood won’t flow. Hands won’t move—is that so? Is death like this? Now I know. In fields of death, I close my eyes, I regret skipping on goodbyes. The mouth won’t open for my cries, On the battlefield where warrior lies. But at peace, alas, at last— Grief and sorrows, those problems vast— All the grievances aside I cast, And close my eyes to the wonderland, Oh, death, so beautiful—I understand.