Everything That Comes of the Morning

Manny's running a bit late today to pick me up from school. I'm guessing first period is a bit of a lost cause.
It's alright, though. It's an intro to computers class, and I can get my work from the website...
We're out of milk...

     I'm in a very interesting mood this morning, what with everything that comes of the morning still in my head. I'd like to write poetry, and yet my notebook and the inspiration that comes with it is eluding me (and by that I mean that not only am I not thoroughly inspired, but I have no idea where the damned thing might have gotten to). I'm thinking I might just share a poem with you guys that I wrote a while back, and still have a certain fondness for. It's called "Battlefield".
Enjoy. <3

Veterans of foreign war
Streak the feild in red
Graves that eat the blooming rose;
A rembrance of the dead.

Bodies that bleed memories
Of gas and pain and hate -
Still hacking at their enemies -
Will meet their deadly fate.

Bullets fall like raindrops;
Weather wrapped in steel -
Dropping sons of family
Who bleed 'till they can't feel...

Death, more like a victory,
Holds an angry gun -
Grumbling at the bodies left
By war that's never won.