There was a battle. Death by death, rivers of blood, fire and lifeless bodies. This is all my life. Every day, every minute of my life I'm fighting. Apparently, I was born for this.
There was a battle. There was no alive place on the whool under the gore but I no longer understand whose it was. I didn't feel pain. Nothing. Only a wish of fighting. But my rage slowly began to fade, giving way to tears.
There was a battle. There is the smell of smoke and the stench of death around. The bloody veil blanketed my eyes. Blood, it was everywhere, and I feel its salty taste on my tongue. But I knew that I must finish what I started.
There was a battle. I reached out my hand, supported by the last heavy drops of rage, and suddenly everything lost its sense. And I wondered: "For what an I fighting? For the peace of for the death?'
There was a battle...