Tuesday, August 31, 2004
The night after
The smell of blood hung heavily
In the air, the ground, the soul.
The air thick with screams and groans.
The silence of the night rent
By the wimperings of the dying,
The lucky ones were already dead,
And half eaten by the creatures of the night.
Who snarled as they bit pieces off the live.
What was all this for?
Don't tell me about victory.