Bloody War

Hands placed on a unclean slate. Clans faced off and deaths happening at a unreal rate.
Bodies lay quietly upon the ground, shoddy warn down knives all around.

A pool of blood surrounded me. A fool I was, oh how I greatly misjudged.
Laboured breathing must have made me look like I was sleeping. 

If only the blood hadn't soaked my clothing.
If only the flood of armies would just stop coming.

This poem is about: 
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741