The Art of War

Red and black.
Blood runs over
Scorched earth.

The sky turns grey,
As smoke rises
From burning corpses.

The artists paint.
The land is the canvas.
Their guns the brushes.

The second horsmen rides;
In his wake are death and destruction
As his steed tramples the earth.

In the distance,
A sudden flash of light.
Instantly, the world turns bright orange.

As the light fades,
Nothing is left standing,
Except for the sins of many.

The sky darkens.
The sun no longer shines
On this barren wasteland.

On the wind,
There are whispers
From the fallen.

The painting is complete...