I know that the title probably doesn't go well with the poem, but I couldn't come up with anything good. Well I wrote this sonnet in an attempt to make it in an iambic pentameter format but I don't think I followed this rule too well. As always comments on improvement are welcomed.
Song of Battle
The stench of battle lingers in the air.
On opposite sides; the two armies meet.
Both of them gaze; a malevolent stare.
As they both strive towards the others defeat.
The battle starts, as swords start to engage.
Steel rips through flesh as they try to defend.
A macabre scene on this tragic stage.
As death grasps the souls of the fallen men.
Holding back tears for their fallen brothers.
Anger and sorrow spurring them to fight.
This is just one of their many struggles.
The heavens cry out; a bloodthirsty sight.
Does fame and power drive them towards glory?
Or does fear mark the end of this story?