By Flamia
Silently beating,
Hearts of compasion,
Swords red with blood.
The woods surround,
The blue puddle of color,
Edged with crimson stained armor,
Bathing, watchful.
Mute they wash the stench away.
Casting off there failure.
Easing themsleves,
In the hidden aquifer.
Soldiers watching them from the woods.