The Conflict Of Men

Into the ever-glowing sea of sunflowers,

Descended the deadly nightshade,

The demented devils screeching as they charged through the mist.

The warriors on the other side,

With their luminous, stoic faces and decrepit armor,

Their battle-worn eyes were wide open,

For they do not want to close their eyes in the ages to come.

The mist started to fade away,

They could now see the reflection,

Lunatics born out of insecurity and fear.

They realize they were fighting men,

Who just like them,

Were following orders,

Have families who loved them,

Stomping each others’ throats for the land they were born in,

And fighting a war they didn’t want to believe in.

Their sacrifices?

Only to be forgotten after the tide settles.