A Victory of Woe

No room to lie down,
no room to sit,
tightly in a ball,
heart beating faster than that of a man who has seen many of men slaughtered,

Though even in his tight enviroment,
he manages to write one last letter,
the one that will be read by his loved ones
how anxiously await his arrive back in the far reaches of sanity and peace.

He writes about the last few months as if each day was blended together,
though each waking moment of each day has been ingraved into his mind
as if it only happened a few moments earlier,

Unknowning to what he is jotting down,
due to the lack of light and the rapid quivering of his hands
he continues on hoping it to be ledgible enough,

He states that all is well and that he hasn't been though much,
yet in the deep depth of his mind he relives the horrors that he had the previous day,

He stops writing and panics at the loss of his pencil,
quickly searching with only the sense of touch he finds it burried in the dirt,

He quickly finishing the letter
feraing that he will lose the pencil again
and then signs it

The noise is unbearable and the feeling of tanks and gun fire up ahead
makes him sick to his stomac