Battlefield

As fires burn out, smoke rises
Filling the sky with a dark cloud
The ground is covered in bodies
Slashed open and bleeding
The dirt is red
Soldiers look for the wounded
But most the fallen are dead
The air smells of rotting flesh
Price of victory is great
Moon sits high
Casting a silver glow over hell
Swords lie next to bodies
Their surfaces dented and red
Eyes of a warrior
Ice-blue
Survey the field of horror
Death stands and takes the souls
Into the cold night
Which seeps
Into the warrior's soul