A poem of a long-ago Battle

(think of this as an epitaph for every battle ever fought)

Long ago it was

Here the heroes stood

There, their countless enemies

Great was the battle

And when it ended

None of them survived

And so this place

Came by the names

It carries unto today

Plain of Endless Blood

The Land Of Bones

The Rust-Stained Ground

And on this plain

Where a thousand swords

Were shatters and broken

The ghosts of those

Who perished that day

Still war in nightmares

None remember the heroes

None remember their enemies

None care their causes

They are all dead

And why they died

Is unimportant now