Something happened here, before I woke up.
I know that there was more than substance; ruins,
But several bombs over the years have developed and tested me.
And the worst part is I can't remember.

The suffocating dust, bleached bones, and dilapidated buildings
are all that is left of before,
but I don't want to go back in there.
I'll only be reminded of the lost thoughts and misreality.
So I trudge into the the wide void of caked dirt,
hot sand,
and mirages.
To start all over, and no one left from before,
left with complex remorse.

What is the use of survival? Alone and confused
with budding thoughts; unwelcome
What did I do?