Young men charging to their death,
Old men not bothered to waste a breath,
Bittersweet victory only bitter in taste,
They are those who order lives to waste.
Those who survive are dead as well,
Haunted by ghosts of death that fell
Like rain, till crops of death grew plentiful,
Red flowers bloomed on those who fall.
YOU ARE READING
Scattered Ponderings
PoetryA single note, it reads *Remember to write something profound here* (cover credit is to @adnali - if anyone's reading this, check out her stuff, it's so good) (spn & fandom is marked in title)
