[SomeUnholyWars]

The war clouds are looming. Gloom and doom, it is. So he packed his best weapon from his armory, and bid his farewell. These unholy wars will never end. It has no bruises, neither blobs of blood nor guts. There will only be sweat and tears. He’s at the brink of the red line on the grass; hesitate to traverse over owing to the fact that he might not see the blue skies again. He sat down. And he pondered.

These unholy wars ain’t holy at all. But it is a must. A must. He made up his mind and he went, anyway.

He saw soldiers perished; they bleed not but the lost souls were up in the dark skies. He saw the judas running away from the battlefield; whizzed in their pants, and heard them huff and puff. They told him to retreat, but he listens not to them words. He believes that a man can find peace in the midst of war, and there’s calmness in the eye of a storm.

Until he’s at the very front line, ready to slay everything that lies in his way and at that very moment, he saw Him. He cried. He finally at peace. 

Some unholy wars just strike from within.