The March Home (part 2 of The March to Battle)

The March Home
The battle won,
All are dead,
As skin and bone
Are shown
On the field.
The enemy did finally yield,
After they were all killed,
And now, as all, save one,
Take their last breath,
He picks up his sword,
And begins his trek,
He looks at all the dead,
The images now burned in-to his heart,
Blood and gore,
As the two forces tore,
Through their ranks,
Catching each, in their flanks,
And now, as he walks,
There are no more talks,
Between the men,
And the wild nights,
There should have been.
He reaches the gates,
And tells all their fates,
He learns he has not cheated death,
He looks at the broken arrow in his chest,
And takes his last breath,
Now he is like the rest,
As he dies,
The people cry,
Their sons, husbands, and fathers,
All taken away,
And yet, on one bothers,
To explain why
Even at the end,
of The March Home.