War

What a dark, desolate land. A wind is the only life, carried by stains of blood. Can't you see? Lives lost and recycled for a pointless "win." Such happy men. Oh, poor, poor "men." They don't realize they're marching to the heavy, fiery gates. Walking through muddied waters, trapped and locked in crates. Oh, how quiet it is. All quiet. The day went by like a light rain. All to be washed away.