The war is over.

The blood on my sword went dry.

A metallic smell.

The scars on my body were brutal.

My legs were not working like how it use to be.

Everything was aching.

The burn of my wounds became stronger.


I could not walk any further.

Blood was still oozing from my arm.

My visions were burly.

The sight of blood makes nauseate.

My time has come.

I lost everything.

My confidence.

My braveness.

My clans.

The people who I called family were no where to be seen.

All dead.

The enemies blood were splattered everywhere.

They say with each battle they become stronger

but I became weaker.

I took all my weapons I stashed in my amour

and left it at the battle field.

My bow.

My dagger.

My swords.

With each step I took

parts of me was gone.

It was my call.

I could just stop

but I did not.

I continued to walk until I reached my limit

and then I stopped.