War

The anvil rings a metal tone, the swords for war are forged.
Evil seized the soul of man, upon the hatred gorged.
The clash of steel and smell of blood addicted those who fought.
The land lay barren, scorched and bare, on battle fields bodies rot.
The sun sets cold, the bells toll long and the wind moans and sighs.
In the gloaming nothing stirs and lightning rips the sky.
In the end the deeds are done, the lesson goes unlearned.
Still the people follow blindly, stand in line to die in turn.