Solider

My Notes

It's been a while since I've written anything on here, a LOT has happened. Most of which will inspire what I have written and will eventually be published on here for all of you to read. As per usual be prepared for some deep stuff and as always happy reading people!

;)

There is war written chaos everywhere I look, nothing but devastation surrounds me. A man is standing over me, hand outstretched towards me, I reach over towards his hand but I hesitate. I can't trust him...or at least that is what my mind is saying but my body is saying something different because I eventually grasp his hand as he pulls me up from the rain ridden, muddy ground. What have I just done? I'm numb and the surging anguish from my wounds hurts me like hell, all wounds including my own self inflicted ones are pulsing, scarring my entire body. He doesn't know that though...how could he when I haven't even told him? He's a man but then again he's just a boy playing in an adults game of cards, the cards of war and (like all of us) we're the children of war only...I'm not a solider. He hands me a quiver and bow, properly thinking that it'll be of some use to me at some point.

"You'll need these." He states bluntly and I'm once agin reminded of how close it feels as if I'm talking to an unanimated object.  I don't answer, astounded by how he can even in the slightest way compel himself to think that I can even come close to being ready to use these instruments of war and fight ever again. Battered, bruised and broken as I am now. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't ready, that it'll be a very long time until I can ever come close to  being ready to fight ever again only...the words escaped me, like they always seem to be doing these last days of mine. As always I thought, I'm running out of words before even having the time to think it, to feel it, to live it.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5qQX7OYpR-4