Battle Ground

The battle starts, the war has begun.
Take your sides, let the damage be done.
Weapons grasped in skeleton hands,
Each side of the battle has made their demands.
The blood is spilled as black and white,
Tainted and pure; an ugly sight.
Harmonies mix to a piercing screech,
The smell of sour roses is in reach.
One by one they all fall down,
Blood mixing grey, sinking in the ground.
The lost souls are captured from the blood they shed,
Black or white, in the battle of the dead.