Peace, no more.

Bloody bodies strewn on the floor
Scattered and ripped galore,

A season for the smell
Of corpses, not flowers,

No more peace and tranquility
This world shall see,

Striding towards an enraged
Primal and brutal phase,

Lust for red
Thirst unfed,

It is not over, no not yet
Merely the beginning, so flee.