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Shot Down

Thirteen scars on the back of my neck,
perfectly aligned for each of my friends.
My life turned to war, as the cuts grow infected.
One friend, two friend, three friend, dead friends.
All suffocated by the green envious gas.
All mutilated by their horrible tasks.
Back-stabbed, back-stabbed, over again,
the infection grows as my heart defends.

I pull in, away from my squad,

and trudge on through the mud,

the infection

g

r

o

w

i

n

g...until im completely alone.

 

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Comments


  • x-Black-Butterfly-x gold member
    March 19, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    wow this is amazing yet burning with a sadness it just speaks so much depth that many people can relate to well done


  • Pyronic rodent
    March 17, 2008
    Edit | Reply

    damn

    its good very sad