Death Parade Michael McKnight

war is a parade we live to love and we fight to die painlessly. in the end, blood shed shall remain the battlefield is cold not the cold that sweeps the crystal arctic regions in the north the cold that scorches the earth with terror war is a parade that watches grass burned to its final breath only a memory is left of its lush green color human limbs scattered across the field with the skulls of forgotten men as they lay on wooden pikes so sharp you could see the reflection of the bullet that pierced its darkened hole crippling men with sweat and blood illuminating their veins mothers drenched in tears so salty, they could fill the entire sea pain and sorrow as families watch their loved ones burn so dark their ashes give off both a sweet and charcoal filled smell only to be used as gunpowder to light up the battlefield like fireflies passing by guns raised to the heads of man as they plead for mercy as they stare their perpetrators in their sky blue eyes filled with a hatred as crimson as a red moon children seeing true terrors come upon them smiles as good as frowns widen as a bullet and gun clicking to the beat of fear galloping down their throats their spines shatter and ripen in the battlefield as a dandelion that was. heads exploding like puzzle pieces falling on the floor as the remains are wiped off the smile of this devil as its disfigured body punctures the wounds of man’s flesh turning it inside out and shoving it in a casket deeper than the earth’s mantle and finally. the red beating heart comes to its last beat. that demon living inside of us it will never know peace.