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Rain Jan 28
So much pain
It flows all around me, all-encompassing
Like a thick, viscous syrup
The dust hangs heavy in the air, no wind to blow it away
The flies, they swarm in clouds
Surrounding and enhancing the stink of death
Their incessant buzzing fills my ears

I look to my left and see a soldier boy’s broken body lying in the dirt, his face marred with scars
Can hear his ragged, sharp intakes as he fights for his life
Slowly trailing off into wet, ****** gurgles.
I’ve never seen death before, but somehow I know that this,
This is it
And I realize he’s close to it
I’ve never felt grief before
But I know its stabbing ache now,
Harsher with every crippled body I see
Growing gradually into an unnatural stillness
I beg for the soldier boy to hold out, I plead silently for him to live
But I know in my heart that he won’t.

Suddenly he chokes out a single word-
“Water!” He gasps
I startle and he falls back again, into the blood-soaked mud
I shift, starting toward him, when liquid fire shoots up my arm
Hissing breath,
White spots
I can hardly see
Can barely breathe

Nearly immobilized by anguish, I move once more to help him
Water trickles into his open mouth,
And then, for the first time, I see the light of life leave someone’s eyes

I slump onto the hard, unforgiving soil
Down, down, my eyes travel
Roaming over what’s left of my arm
Flesh and shards of bone
My gaze swivels around to the ****** landscape
Shredded bodies, torn horses kicking at the air
Death, so much death.
For long hours I lay baking in the sun, surrounded by devastation
At last, long last, far beyond the point of hope,
The Giver brings me back.
I turn my sunken stare to him, and he hides his stricken face
For showing all that I now know
“Forgive me,” he whispers
I nod absently
That was War.
This was written as an assignment for English class, and is about Jonas' first interaction with war and tragedy, from the book The Giver.
TB Dentz Jul 2018
Like a lion in the desert
Scrawny and rat-like but still fierce and intimidating
Thirsty but miles from water and used to it
Outcast but used to it
Dangerous and on the verge of death but used to it
emily grace Feb 2016
i know you say you don't love me
that this heart isn't enough
but why do you keep holding on
making the edges of me rough
and torn
held onto you by threads
you know i'd jump through it all for you
bash in a thousand heads
just to hear those sweet words from you
something that won't make me weep
i am yours for the taking
and i wish you were mine to keep
WistfulHope Dec 2014
ask to
see me

but my hips
are a little too
ragged right

to have
your hands
at them

— The End —