Hundreds of dead still walk through the day,
their flesh glows an unsightly gray.
Soldiers and guns cover the ground,
while living dead remain unfound.
They're soulless corpses hunting brethren
risen from the forest ashen.
Neither killed nor resurrected,
but hollow gravestones self-erected.
Empty shells of past humans,
ghostly images inhuman;
From the wars waged throughout time,
are depths from which these wretches climb.