The Untold Story Poem by sebastian awa

How the days were hot and arid,
A blade shines with the light of the sun.
Blood stains the earth and it's skies,
The cries of the wounded are loud and sorrowful.
One man stands alone a the mountian of corpses,
Panting out his own blood.

The war was feirce and unforgiving,
Blades clashed in anger.
Fire rose as if from the earth its self,
Lakes of the crimson spirit filled the fields.

Still only one man stands,
Facing the rain of needles,
He bows in surreder for the last time.