This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Coastal Carolina chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.
The ground is covered in a deep dying brush
Like a carpet made of the once living.
Each step is followed by a boney crunch.
You are walking on a battle ground,
lives ditched in hopes of survival.
Some battles were lost.
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The dead don’t smell dead.
The dead smell clean,
Almost even relaxing. But don’t worry.
The dead don’t mind,
that you are comforted by them.
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You are walking on a battle ground.
You see some in their own defense, Â
have fallen to join the carpet.
The battle is ending.
Music plays for the dead,
Soft distant music. Â