Standing there in my dusty and dented battle armor,
a heat blackend machine gun resting on my should, 
I survey the carnage before me.  
The ruddy sun sheds a few feeble streaks of light 
as it sinks below the horizon.  
The light retreats as if horrified 
by the sight of this lifeless place.  
Thick oily clouds of smoke 
from burning vehicles swirl into the air 
before setteling back onto the ravaged ground.  
Soot covers everything in a foul greasy film.  
Battle-mecha, once towering and proud in their perfection, 
lay strewn about like a child's broken toys.  
One catches my attention.  
I inspect its jumbled circuitry, visible
through a gaping blast hole, 
arcing with self-repairing electronics that refuse to die, 
even though that mech pilot now consists of 
nothing more than a darkend crimson stain,
smeared across the back of the cockpit.