War In This Room (No Rhyme While Slaying) Poem by Austin Wheeler

I crept into the room an alert mess.
My battle buddies were clearing the other rooms.
I passed the entryway and the door slammed like the mallet behind me.
I pivot and there he was.
The evil bearded man.
He had been expecting this day for a lifetime.
Before I could raise my killing device and complete the job,
He leapt forward and with a downward kick sent my flashing muzzle toward my own feet.
My left big toe now nonexistent, I fell backwards and dropped my corpse maker.
A mini-crucifixion as the man screamed words and pulled out his old dagger.
I cursed my carelessness but I can’t die.
I am a trained immortal.
I yanked for the trowel in my side pouch and point it toward his emotionless face.
The one with sharpened edges.
It’s my only substitution.
I struggled to rise above the pain without breaking eye contact.
To my surprise he gave me time to stand and ready myself.

We stared into each other’s intentions for what seemed yet another lifetime.
Maybe the big war outside would end if we gaze a minute longer.
But we both realize the truth at that instant and know we are bred to hate each other.
He lunges into my zone nimbly with a jab of his blade.
I jerk my body around it and catch his arm between my torso and bicep in a vice grip.
I start striking the left side of his face with the back of the trowel with the force of a titan.
Adrenaline slipped his arm out between my grip, slicing my ribcage upon exit.
Both now bloodied in different regions, he slices horizontally and I try to duck,
But he catches my cheek
And as I felt the exiled warmth slip down my face I charge the brown man within a fit of rage against the wall and break the seal and wind up in a new room with him under me and I repeatedly bang his wielding fist against the unyielding stone ground until its empty while repeatedly cramming the deadly end of the trowel into his intestines until my arm became tired and I see fecal matter on my hands. I take a long awaited breath before shouting oh my god.

In his last moments the man sees that panic and pain grow more in my eyes than his.
He grabs my hand and tries to reach for my head but his arm flails back down with a crash.
In silence now we stare at each other again but in a different manner than we did before fighting.
The only emotion I detect is a stoic respect and a hint of empathy.
I gained more respect from this nameless man than I had ever received from any of my friends, family, pets, teachers, students, and even fellow soldiers.
For we believed in the same higher powers which gave us life we just assigned different aliases.
How were we so different?
He died.
Before my squad came in there after my minute long incident in these two rooms to congratulate my victory over this terrorist, I came to the conclusion that since Allah had blessed this man with the gift of life, I was now the exact opposite of Allah.
The exact opposite of God.
The Devil?
I felt like I had killed myself in that moment