Dear Diary, (poem)
It was quiet. I could hear nothing. Deafening silence blasted my ears, enough to hear a pin drop. We stood, crammed, wet, depressed, holding weapons designed by a human with the only intention to kill another. My vision obscured by past smoke. My snug, good-for-nothing uniform clung to my sleep deprived, cold body, shrinking from the damp. Heart pounding through my chest, head accustomed to constant dread and fear of dying. Despite this saddened atmosphere, positioned together, we gripped onto the last slither of hope we had. Second by second goes by. Stopwatch ticking. 3...2...1...
We rush over the mud, neglecting reality. Adrenaline creating ecstasy, of which was short lived. Our minds focused on our mission. We are puppets, held by threat and guilt. Players in a game of soldiers. Submerged in our ignorance yet somehow, we breathe just fine. Bullets penetrating others' skin, while the only thing hurting me is the thoughts swimming through my head. Illegal becomes normal, normal becomes illegal, change in the inevitable, worry in the darkness.
Time stopped.
Visions moved with caution and sound travelled with sensitivity. Memories being blurred like water to the eye. In a second my life changed for the worse. Confusion, worry, pain, of both mental and physical. Exhaustion caused truthfulness to be twisted.
What have I done.
~ Eris~
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Descriptive boldness
Poetryhere's where the question 'is she ok?' comes into play. see here a little collection of all the descriptions and mini-stories i write in my free time as well as in school. enjoyyyyy. Eris xx
