I see the ****** carnage everywhere.
To my left I see my hope dying
To the right I see my deamons thriving.
The mustard gas of devastation blinds all senses
And I am alone in frantic thoughts trying to claw my way out of the dark.
I hear my self-conscious behind me pushing, weakly yelling at me to run, to live, to survive.
I open my burning eyes and stumble through underground mines of confusion and barbed wire able to grab and never let go.
This war inside rages on each day like a never ending trench warfare
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 8:37 AM UTC
I see the ****** carnage everywhere.
To my left I see my hope dying
To the right I see my deamons thriving.
The mustard gas of devastation blinds all senses
And I am alone in frantic thoughts trying to claw my way out of the dark.
I hear my self-conscious behind me pushing, weakly yelling at me to run, to live, to survive.
I open my burning eyes and stumble through underground mines of confusion and barbed wire able to grab and never let go.
This war inside rages on each day like a never ending trench warfare
This poem uses WWI to symbolize the war many of us face in our hearts and minds. Horrors are found in all corners of the world no matter what shape they take.
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