Sky and White Clouds

The taste of blood, yes, this is the taste of blood. Fishy, ​​sweet, rotten smell. That's right, they're all dead, they're all dead. Only I, only I exist. As far as the eye can see, there is an endless expanse of green fields and sky, only corpses, and only the grassland under the corpses. The flapping locusts, the circling goshawks, the bright and proud moon. There are also glowing green lights, which are wolves, the real masters of the grassland. Who am I? What am I? Those who should not exist are dead. The whole body is covered with blood, the lips are chapped under the howling wind, the disdainful eyes that look down on the earth, the arrogant and noble look, this is what I did, but it is not my doing, killing each other...