Blood.
Everywhere I turn,
I see blood.
The bodies.
The tortured, mangled bodies.
And the blood.
I hear, the cries,
Of mothers, wives and daughters.
Cries of sadness,
When they see the men.
And the blood.
The death.
They fought,
Valiantly,
They fought.
But the death was inescapeable.
Limbs scattered.
Weapons dripping with gore.
With blood.
