Now it rains on the field

A sonnet I wrote for a contest, free theme. My friend helped me choose a theme.

The rain starts falling on the field of blood

What once was green has now been filled with red

The rain is forcing red to mix with mud

As if it did not care for those who bled

There will be ones to judge it fair enough

To give and take lives for the countries’ sakes

Their hearts are not to be considered slough

They just can’t tell a bird’s egg from a snake’s

For if they measured all the good and bad

They would see past the gain and past the grin

They’d see the mourning of those in black clad

The pain of those who helped the winner win

The rain might wash away the corpses’ stench

But it clears not what happened in the trench