War

the smell of gunpowder in the air
the moans of the dieing men
souls floating up towards the heavens
the battlefield is always a somber place
bodys scattered like fallen trees
strong, brave, standing tall
now fallen, lieing broken on the blood shoaked earth
one wonders why someone would
rot all this destruction but
maybe, just maybe, like the ones forced to serve anothers country, maybe, just maybe
the enemy too had no choice.