The Stained Lands

The war raged on in the West,

It is the thirteenth day.

And as one side cries 'Fire the arms!'

And the other cries 'Long live the Nation'

The scowl of the skies grows darker

For the wrathful Lord of Thunder was shrieking, 

Angels hid their faces in their hands,

As the troops fired at each other.

As each man in that land fell,

Tears rolled down the Lord's eyes

For his eyes saw the pain and downfall of each of his children.

As Dusk came, the troops retreated leaving the crippled and injured behind.

And those who swore to never leave their fellow men helpless,

Went back on their galloping horses as chivalrous heroes,

With not so much as a glance back.

The sky grew darker and ever so endless,

And the soldiers were left to moan with grief and pain. 

Then came a lady wearing robes of black,

With a white apron.

She tended to the soldiers, 

Ally and enemy alike. 

She healed all the wounds that the war had inflicted on them.

But as the soldiers opened their eyes,

Hoping to see the people around them with concern filling their eyes,

All they saw was blood, 

Blotting and staining their precious land.

As the nurse drifted away, 

She inflicted the greatest wounds of Remorse and Regret on the men.

And as the enemies embraced each other,

It begins to rain

As though to wash out the stains of human sins,

As though to wash out the stains of human sins.