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Mar 2018
It's not going so well.
That's really all that I can get myself to tell.
It's a struggle for me to keep above water, when I'm in the middle of this meaningless slaughter.
I keep telling myself that I will survive, but everything is in an endless and continues dive.
When I look up all I see is empty eyes and dark lies.
When I look around shells are cracking, and guns are banging, making projectiles whistling and blood drizzling. It's a chaos.

I look behind me, I gasp as hell gates clasp.
No sense or justice are served when rules are curved, so well as pain observed.

I carry on digging my own grave, I am no hero I have no one to save.
I am not screaming, just seeing how people fall in vain, without any opportunity to gain, just a single breath of "clean air". That is where I shoot my flare into the sky, in a hope so needless, I might see an angle fly.
The clouds turn dark, and with time, "hope" quits leaving a mark.

So dear beloved God, please give me a sign, lead me a path, so I can leave this awful place behind.
I don't really belong.
Jolan Lade
Written by
Jolan Lade  18/M/Denmark
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