I have never felt more hatred toward another human being
than I do toward myself.
The only question I have been able to ask myself these past few months
is “what the **** are you doing?”
and I do not have an answer.
I have been carrying this weight for so long that
I have forgotten how it feels to be free.
I am a prisoner of war
inside my own ******* head,
and I am no longer sure of what I am fighting for.
Do not call me a soldier.
I am not a hero,
I am a coward.
I am weak.
Point a rifle to my head.
Do not prepare your bayonets,
I will not struggle.
Close my eyes when the light fades from them.
Do not let me see what I’ve left behind.