Sanguine Mud

I lie there in the dust.
(The particles of a jumpsuit fail)
scattered, tattered
bloody and bruised.
Raged bone protruding
through my flesh.
The marrow of my life
pooling all about me.
The sanguine mud becomes
new war paint,
Smeared upon the faces
of the new youth.
Their voices chanting
and echoing in hills,
"No Death in Vain!!"
On they march
to the start of a new type
of war.