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War is a family of mine. I grew up hearing his name. Our home was littered with trinkets he sent. He was a relative, a close family friend.
War was a traveler, a tourist. We would get souvenir of his visits, conquests for his stories. War was a thief never left a place how he found it.
War is a wretched in law, my mother hated him. He had a claim over her husband in way she couldn't. War just like my dad only loved the sons she had birthed. War never made room for her.
War was sexist, his favourite past time was a walk on my mother's skin. He had jokes with punchines that poked my sister's thighs. War always gazed me with a tiger's eye.
Yet, war was a family friend, always close. War rarely got my father's 'no's.
BY Colorless perception
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