You take our tomorrows, you take our todays, you take our whole lives and make us your slaves. We have nowhere to run but right to our graves and now we have trauma engraved. I have something to say, something to say but you discard me by saying that it is the right way. How is it right if we fought and we killed, destroying the lives that we and they had to build, unfulfilled, I'm not thrilled. So what? Now I'm skilled at killing innocent folk? The only comfort is something to drink, something to smoke? It's not enough and it's not ok! I'm not ok! We are not ok!
You told us that our country needs us. You said without us, our country would fail. You promised us this wonderful life and experience for all males. An option now a duty, if not chosen go to jail. But you said nothing of the fear, how our friends can just disappear, injuries severe and the bombs we hear. You said the horrors would be over by the end of the year. But it's unclear when we'll stop losing our dearest peers. They are lying and cheating puppeteers, they sit back and let us die. They hide from it all, playing the same thing, and using us like uncared for toys in this war game. They don't switch nor twitch and actively make the decisions of which, which horrible threat will kill me today? Which awful aspect will I have to fear and focus on to survive and stay? So I can make it home and not end up in my grave. What will help me kill the least, blend the most, work and succeed, something I need like a switchboard that creates my fate but there is no such thing. I am always lost but always hoping to find a way out, to sleep in peace and not need to eat those horrible biscuits or hide on a street in Ypres waiting it out. They say we are weak and show cheek if we cannot meet their impossible critique.
I can smell the burning hatred for Princip and those who have forced us to fight from those of my kinship. But there is no point in anger as it will not resolve this hurt and dispute unheard. I preferred my life before this occurred. I may be a writer but they'll never listen to my words.
YOU ARE READING
To Live is to Die
PoetryI find war a fascinating topic-so broad yet so focused, filled with so many emotions and endless stories to explore. Sadness has its own kind of beauty, and that's what I wanted to capture here. To Live is to Die is my way of remembering the lives s...
