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There was a small hole in the front of his head and a large one in the back. The blood was soaking it and turning it the crimson red of the beautiful sunrise over the majestic yellow sand dunes. His last thought was of his beautiful wife and kids. He was only trying to preserve his people’s way of life. The weapon in his hands is slick, red with his blood as his friends struggle to make his death mean something, to make him more than just another fallen comrade, to stop these imperialistic bastards; They know nothing of the land they are invading or the cultures they are trampling.
This is just a short thing I wrote trying to step into the other side's shoes. I believe in order to stop, at least to some degree, fighting, one must first understand what one is fighting. I feel there is a problem with today's culture, at least America's, that many Americans believe their country is somehow always in the right and has never done anything wrong. This way of thinking makes me a bit angry, so I ask you to think from the other side's perspective sometimes.
Feel free to critique, discuss, refute, etc.
