Her body's a battleground- her mind full of wounded soldiers.
The bloodshed is astounding, and the enemy won't back down.
The war has been raging for a while, to long to remember.
There is no carefully planned strategy.
There is only chaos.
With a box full of ammo, she can choose her own weapon.
There was a little war hiatus:
her soliders repaired.
The battleground was tended to.
When the enemy broke down her walls again, she was not ready.
"How saddening it is, " she murmurs to herself, "when you are shaking so bad you can barley hold a spoon, let alone a blade."
The war has picked up yet again.
