War close at hand.
Warriors ready to fight.
The prep talk from the commander,
to encourage his men.
The time is near.
The Battle's about to begin.
The army's take their places,
on opposite sides.
The cries of war are sent back and forth,
Armor and spears clanging and banging around.
The sounds, the sounds of war are all around.
The time is near.
The Battle's about to begin.
Suddenly, threw all the ruckus,
A single arrow is sent flying out of no where.
It flies up high, then descends,
Descends down fast, and lands,
Lands strait into the chest of a man.
And so, it begins.
The battle begins.
Men charge at men.
Into the glorious fight they fly.
The yells of war are heavy now,
as the two armies collide.
Swords clashing, arrows flying.
This is the sound of battle.
The sound of death.
Swords lash trough flesh.
The screams of pain,
from the young men dying in action.
Many too young to understand,
too young to die.
Yet they still die.
They fight for their beliefs,
their homeland, their families.
Their dying, in their own bloodshed.
The war finally ends.
But neither side wins.
This is a battle,
that was hopeless to begin with.
Many died, for what they believed.
And now here they lie.
They died in their own blood.
