Killing Field

I have to kill him because he’s my enemy; if I see the moving shadows, whether they are children, women, sick or old I have to sweep them out from the field because they are the obstacles to accomplish my mission, the killing is not only non-crime but, in order for me to survive, massacre can even be justified, and no day or night is there in this ruthless killing field. Following the mixture of light and darkness, no time, just the extension of light and dark I run, lie on the ground, or crawl to sustain myself and when I sleep out there it becomes my home or can be turned into my grave, a detestable spot of a life’s journey, a wrongfully fixed life’s cycle’s moment.