A river of blood slowly flows,
Increasing with every corpse.
Cristallized red reflecting the moon's glow,
Warmth verses cold.
Death has won,
No pity, no regret.
Life had lead the battle,
But strength had soon changed sides.
Not giving up, the corpses fight back,
Whining through the mortal silence.
And as they lie on Death's plate,
Souls silently depart,
Leaving them alone to face the Ennemi.
In this battle,
Not a life has been spared.
Only dreams resist,
Too magical to be real,
Too beautiful to exist.
