The war is won, yet I am lost.

I was built for war.

My life was ash and soot and steel.

My soul was red hot malice, and destruction.

I was built to destroy every last enemy.

I was made to kill, but not to live.

Now I wander these fields of asphodel.

I walk and walk.

I prowl and prowl.

I wait and wait.

I wander.

I am alone now.

every other titan of war has fallen.

If my purpose is to kill, what do I do.

What do I do when the only thing to kill, is me.

Both sides of this war had lost long before I was even thought of.

The planet was barren, and all of the humans, our inventors, were gone.

I am an invention.

An invention of no one, for no one, with no one.

I a a thing for which there is no need.

Was there ever a need for me.

The empty abyss of starless smoggy sky.

This scared crater of rock beneath my feet.

Both are just as welcoming as the other.

This war is won.

But no.

No it's not.

It is the one.

The end.

Or is this a begging.

They are over.

But I am here.

I am lost.

Lost afloat all of the ashes and soot, and fire, and red hot steel.

The scratches and dents carved into my steel mirror the earth.

Mirror it's life.

Mirror me.

This war is won.

It's over.

I won.

And now, I am lost.

I am free of this war.

But still trapped by it.

I longed for it to end. For centuries.

But it is still there.

Even after it is gone, it is here in the absence of everything else.

All traces of why the fighting stated had vanished long before anyone I had ever met was born.

No reason.

No hope.

No winning.

The war is won, And yet...

And yet...

And yet...

And yet.