Fought for love

Fought for peace

Fought for memories I no longer can reminisce

The blood

The sweat

The fear

I remember it all

The stench of the trenches

The putrid cloud of anxiousness and calamity perpetually lingering

Never more than a few breaths short of inhaling pure death

But what is death compared to life?

Purer?

More sacred?

Meet me in the field and find out.