Historias de Kindaventing

my poetry drabbles, random thoughts, and other things.

Probably a bunch of bad poems but...had to put these somewhere.

I am a soldier. I am the one that is always on the battlefield. With scratch marks, and bruises. I try to carry on, I try to see the light. I reach for my guns, to try and abolish the enemy. The ones that want me dead. But I can't anymore. I've been fighting for so long- too long. I weakly pick up my gun, with shaky hands. And it falls out of my grasp once more. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! JUST STOP PLEASE! I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE! PLEASE! And yet they don't listen. They like that this hurts oh so much. I scream to my fellow soldiers. PLEASE HELP ME! PLEASE HELP ME, PLEASE! I CAN'T TAKE THIS! PLEASE OH PLEASE GUIDE ME! GUIDE ME BACK TO THE LONGING LIGHT! But they just snicker. Better her than me. She'll take the fall for us. I look back to the enemy. The one who wants to make me give up. Please... Please stop. Its so, so very loud here. I now realize, the only way out is obvious. I guide the barrel of my own gun to my head. I just can't take it anymore... I pull the trigger. And finally, the war I've been fighting is over. Are you satisfied now? You sadistic pleb. I fall to the floor, and finally, I feel relieved. -Aliveindead