The war waged on
Felicia’a poor soul
It lived in morbid fear
Another letter came
Dearest love
We have fought for months now
I have killed and maimed
There is blood on my hands
I have taken life
Brothers, fathers, sons and others
My sword does not see the difference
It thirsts for more
I see all those faces in my dreams
Warped and cloaked and twisted
But they laugh at me
The air around carries the stench of death
To breathe here is to inhale poison
But the thought of you makes me calm
I shall come soon my love
Yours,
Hernan.