And so, the war was over or was it? The smell of gunpowder filled the air as it cleared from sight. Now in the feild, there for all to see, dead men and children are left to bleed. The war is over, but pain is still there, as the atmostphere of death fills the air. This brings us much sorrow, we're much argrieved, for this fighting for triumph has decieved. It was in our minds, and it engulfed our hearts, that this had war been declared for reasons right from the start. But as our softly glazed hues stare out in despair, at the never ending abyss of corpse that lay there. Our hearts filled with greif as we see what we've done. The fighting is over, the war has been won. With truth in our minds, we feel it sting, seeing all this pain that did bring. A hundred years later, we stare into the sky. We see the past, and wonder why. Did we really need to loose all those lives? Or could we have come to a comprimise and saved us time. The lives we spared, the past that haunts us, it's slaughter's aftermath, deep within us.