Ghosts.

All was quiet, all was still.
Until the ghosts arrived.

Now the mountains bear scars, now the forests are headless.
The flowers have gone dark and the waterfall’s tears are dry.

I feel their sadness, but I also feel their anger.

They're waiting.

They're waiting for the day when the ghosts are banished.
When colours return and the darkness has vanished.

When the living regain control and bloodshed has ended.
That will be the day when hearts heal and scars are mended.