Poem: Repentance

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The foul smell of death,
the red blood drowning the sand,
the broken bones and shattered lives,
the whimpering cries of man.

In a battlefield lost in time,
for a war lost to history,
the sacrifices to be forgotten,
buried under the greed of mankind.

Fought deep in the mountains,
where no one dares to go
for king, queen and country
to prevent the nation's woe.

I know that fate had led me there,
into the fiery mouth of death.

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Was it my destiny,
my purpose to war
for a hundred nights,
and die with a thousand knights?

To die in a meaningless war,
or to live a meaningless life?

Now I stand amidst a thousand souls,
wailing and crying,
even in the cold silence of death,
there is no mercy.

For only after death
is there repentance.