Did you see them?

Did you see them

Going off to fight?

'Ravens will drink the milk of this battle.'

The solitary figure stood alone on the crest of the hill, silently observing the aftermath of the battle. To the casual observer it seemed that the figure stood impassionatly, with a face seemingly carved out of stone, body held stiffly to attention, showing no emotion to the world. Though if anyone had looked closer they would have seen the miniscule signs seeping through the cracks in the worn armour, the way the man's hand gripped his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white under the strain, the way his fist kept the pattern of clenching and unclenching, the way his eyes reflected pain and despair.

Children of the barricade

Who didn't last the night?

' So many lives wasted, so many familes destroyed, so much grief and for what cause ' Pain wrought eyes scan sorrowfully over the battlefield, taking in the broken bodies of comrades, friends, men he had known all his life, now left to rot or be eaten by the carrion hunters that now circled the battlefield. He listened to the wails of anguish that came from all over the field at the discovery of another dead brother, husband, father, cousin, friend, at the point where all hope vanished and was replaced by despair as darkness crept into the mind and poisoned the soul.

Did you see them

Lying where they died?

Someone used to cradle them

And kiss them when they cried.

' Every man is a hero until he meets defeat, so i'm told. ' The day had started out with the sound of the birds chirping from the trees and the hot summer sunshine raining down, it had then been filled with the sound of blade on blade and war cries, it had carried on throughout the night and ended with the stillness that can only come after a battle. The sun now no comfort to those left behind.

Did you see them lying side by side?

Who will wake them?

No one ever will.

No one ever told them

That a summer day can kill.

' Do we ever fight for something worthwhile, we fight wars over money and land, we fight for kings we will never meet, we fight for the sake of fighting. They say we fight for a new and better world, I say where is it ' As he watched weary men tend to their wounds and saw healers rushed off their feet trying to see five people at once he felt as sense of hoplessness settle over his heart ' No, there will always be another battlefield. '

Fighting for a new world

That would rise up like the sun.

Where's that new world now the fighting's done?

' I wonder, do the gods laugh at us for our foolish battles and raging wars, or do they pity us in our despair, we are truly the forsaken' He watched as women fell to their knees screaming voiceless pleas, watched as prayers were said for the dead, watched as men raised their eyes heavenwards and sent up prayers for help. He watched as none of those prayers were answered.

Same old story. What's the use of tears?

What's the use of praying if there's nobody who hears?

Ignoring the blood that trickled from his wounds and the sharp flashes of pain that shocked through his body, the man shook his head and began to make his way back down to the camp, back down to the fighting, back down to the vicious cycle that would not break, just another pawn in the machine of war, another statistic that could be sacrificed, just another war-worn soldier.

Turning, turning, turning through the years

Minutes into hours and the hours into years.

Nothing changes. Nothing ever can.

Round and round the roundabout and back where you began.