Dead, injured humans falling in battle

I think this is the most clichéd poem I have written I my LIFE. Also, my poetry skills are down these few days, so my poems aren't so good. Read, though, and review. Thanks.

Prayer

Dead, injured humans falling in battle

Dark, dancing weapons claim life after life

Broken, their bodies, like wandering cattle

Life's breath stolen swift by the chaotic strife

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Mother or father, servant or master

Each had a family, each has good friends

This lie now taken, death now claims them faster

Plunged into darkness, another life ends

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Are you from Etruria? A tribe in Sacae?

What was our job, before you joined the war?

Did someone's heart break when your life flew away?

I never thought once of all these things before.

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One, two, five hundred—how many have fallen?

How many souls stolen by my cruel hand?

Now as his life scatters like soft, windblown pollen

I offer a prayer, teardrops in the sand

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Please give his spirit a safe path to heaven

Now as he dies lying down at my feet

Tell him I'm sorry that it had to happen

Tell him I feared for our army's defeat

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Forgive me, my brother, whom I never spoke to

We could have been friends, if the fates had allowed

Yet, they decreed that I was to fight you

Now dead—you're forever a face in the crowd

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Fly safe to heaven, now freed forever

Of great black burdens we once shared on earth

Find peace above us with every endeavour

Never regret once the day of your birth

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The sky there is shining, and there you will never

Revisit the pain that you felt here on earth.