First Dawn after the War

My imagination has given birth to another dark poem; taken from my writing site.

The sun rises, shedding light on this grotesque scene.
Unfolding before them, like mountains of rotting flesh,
Are the bodies of the ones they loved.
Even in death they are beautiful;
Avenging angels sent to rid the world of evil.
This battlefield, strewn with corpses,
Shall serve as a reminder to all who wish well:
Intentions mean nothing.
In the end, we were all born to die.