Akeldama

My floor is a field of blood
I warned them not to play with me
But they insisted on turning my room into a tennis court,
all be it a one sided match
And now they're all dead
My electric serve was mostly merciful,
though some lingered a little longer in pain
No more high pitched war cries ringing in my ears
Perhaps now--finally!--I can get some rest
In the day I'll assess the damage
and clean up this mess
Mozzie wings and limbs and probes
Which miniscule part fits with which, only God knows