The Bloody Brother War Poem by Timothy Long

A bloody fortnight, unsoundly evil to the rest, the ash the wind blew away of the dead, like a caged bird nothing even went right, death was living, as the fields were empty and the grass nonexistent, the leaves fell and others have come, knowing it was their time to pass, the new ones are about to bloom, what's left to do? Heaven or hell even I can't tell, why is everything so tragic in despair, life to them was a meaning to escape reality, giving no meant death while courage meant life, is cowardice the right thing to do, being a friend to sacrifice for or fear the alternative, the fact trapped them like a sad truth, many fallen but is it worth the vainness, suicide seemed like one step away to the enemies, but no one knew who anymore, family of none is of all they say, where all war stop as the blood flows south.