Friday, May 24, 2013
This scorching heat never ends.
Blisters on our skin.
Rashes on our faces.
We’re riding in some roofless bus.
Bouncing over a world of char.
It’s dead. Never to live again.
My platoon burned. Turned to ash before my eyes.
My brother. I couldn’t save him.
I failed.
So why am I still here?
No reason really.
Some luckless fate.
I grab a pistol. Point it at the medic’s head.
And in an instant, all the guns are trained on me
That’s right.
Let’s end this.
Shoot me friends.
Why tarry? Why carry on?
For me this world is
cold.
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