Weaponhadrays cuckooed firedetonrees amongst Liver Bush,

and the screams of Liverinians made the entire world go hush. Blood formed clouds weeping for all life in life. The sounds,

the hush, the firedetonrees,
A chaos of things, brought on by knife and more knife. The rounds,
spitting through air, blood, and trees.

You ask a reason for the death? Such pain? Such horror?

There is none.

Reason is an agent of peace, in war it has never existed or,

it is all soon done.

Liverinian and Weaponhadrays fight into night.
So much blood around them
they think they are seeing a crimson sunlight.
From a sunset’s conundrum.

The sounds of crule gun.
Quick death.
The passing of the true sun.
A Final Breath.

The hurting halts and both eyes open to their faults.

Two things stand, the last two on Earth.

A battle between struggle and life.
Nation’s pride our soul?
The curious choice to use a knife.

Or not too.

One man falls

Too late.

Such is fate.