Up in the air
Death stares
People below fight
They think they have might

Presence is constant
Slaughter is fast yet unending
Ground shines red
War is never dead

Sometimes it calms down
Only to build even worse
Throw more corpses onto the mound
Who will be the first?

They think they triumph
The trumpets play their war song
Only to cry out in pain
Soon their souls will be slain

Many mourn for the recently gone
No triumph now
Sometimes they look up
Hear the bird which allowed

Looming death over their heads
Vultures in the feathers of eagles
People thought help would come
Instead, blasted into the ground.

Instead, a funeral dirge.