The Grey

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A battlefield of flesh and blood

The sky bathed in a crimson brood

The earth covered by the crumbled spirits of men

The air reeks with the stench of the dead souls

Crows circling the lumps of flesh

The savage birds cawing loudly in choruses

The scavengers picking the organs like fresh fruits

The fallen warriors embracing the rotten land

Blood flowed in a constant stream

The eyes of the dead staring blankly

Their pupils shallow like deep tunnels

Each of them expected the scythe of death

A song of macabre hummed in the air

As one cried in the midst of the dead

He lays there, the perpetrator of all

Trapped in the endless spiral of death and killing

The black-winged surrounding him and waiting

As life slowly leaves him exhausted with wounds a man can’t bear

Voices are echoing, his vision blurring

He crawled slowly in the heap of flesh

The stench filled his nostrils

The birds and the flies filling his ears

The vortex of death which he is in

The useless chase where he can’t stop

An answer to the questions he asked

The answer he seeks

The power he wants

The goal he wants to achieve

All of those will be lost in these hopeless moments

As he lay in the middle of these bloodthirsty men

He looked in the grey skies and stared in it while looking at his stained hands

The tool of killing

The murderer

The destroyer

He cried emptily but only the siren of the dead answered him

His wail echoed in the soliloquy of death

His soul is lost and tired

He closed his eyes

He did not see darkness but instead a nightmare

For he who is guilty see only nothing but the Grey

He can’t wake up

He can’t escape

The only answer to his questions

Is the ceaseless circle of end

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