A lost battle(the battlefield aftermath)
Darkened air surrounding my face,
heavy-laden with the taste
of bloodied sweat, profuse and base.
The wind drips blood and tears of rage,
painting gore on every sunken coffin case.
The sight of deadly disgrace and morbid disarray
change the hill, done up in spring lace,
the color scarlet which takes the place
of purest white intention, and deeds nobly chased.
Skinless skulls, with attributes traced permanently on their faces,
stare at the dying sky through eyes that have been glazed;
seeing nothing and noone, their vision erased
leaving them withering, waiting, in deaths peaceless embrace.
Power hungry men with blood’s iron taste,
find poison in their stomachs paste.
Men watching vampires haul kin to their place,
leave with sick heaviness in their victory defaced,
and rush to their beds where nightmares await
to craze them to death, and to kill them with haste.
Copyright ©2007 Luci M Vasquez
