Sulphur- The Price of Sin.

Mothers wail,
With forlorn faces pale,
Naked children dragging empty wooden pails,
Whether, high or low, wooden or stone, they weren't saved by walls,

The brown earth made redder and crusty by the blood of man,
A land kissed by war,
This land is no stranger to death,
Foes and friends, the good and the bad, the young and the old she did not distinguish,

A sharp shriek disturbs the semblance of peace,
The mummers and awkward glances herald another of deaths ever willing consorts,
Soon carrion crows and vultures will be feasting,
Worm fodder rendered plentiful in this doom and gloom,

A thick black plume coils atop the smoking ruins they called home,
The heavy aroma of rot and sickness hanging in the air,
As with death, mild dew on the grass desperately clings to the earth.