03-30-2011, 04:15 PM
[SIZE="1"]A ruined body lies before me, stretched out on a stretcher brought to my station, unrecognizable from the heavy burns you sustained on your face. I steel myself as I scramble to my feet and place a trembling hand on your neck to check your pulse. All this time and I still can’t control that tremble. I press two fingers on your neck and feel nothing, nothing. I take a deep breath and prepare to announce you dead on arrival when the faintest of heartbeats made itself known. I pull myself together. Mustering all my courage, I get to work and my thoughts are lost as I treat the deep, weeping wounds on your abdomen when your hand suddenly shot out and gripped my arm. I drop my tools in surprise as you pull me towards your burned, ruined face. You whisper into my ears words that made my blood run cold and the strength run out of my body.
“Tell ---- that.. that I love him.â€Â
Your hand falls, and I’m drop to the floor.
You, who saved me from myself and protected me from so much.. and I couldn’t do anything for you. Shouts of victory echo all around as this war finally ends.
Is this what we fight for? To be broken in every sense of the word, physically, mentally, and emotionally, then to heal and scab and scar and ultimately be destroyed? To win, but to be so horribly disfigured, scarred and unrecognizable in the end? Was this war truly worth all that? This wretched war? We are like pigs to the slaughter, drawn here for different purposes, but all sacrificed in the same manner.
It seems as if you are merely sleeping.
A soldier passes me and claps my shoulder gleefully. You are dead and I’m alive. Even so, this war has destroyed everything I held dear, my reason for living.
How much more of this can we take? People outside may not know it, but we are all broken inside.
All for the glory of our country.[/SIZE]
“Tell ---- that.. that I love him.â€Â
Your hand falls, and I’m drop to the floor.
You, who saved me from myself and protected me from so much.. and I couldn’t do anything for you. Shouts of victory echo all around as this war finally ends.
Is this what we fight for? To be broken in every sense of the word, physically, mentally, and emotionally, then to heal and scab and scar and ultimately be destroyed? To win, but to be so horribly disfigured, scarred and unrecognizable in the end? Was this war truly worth all that? This wretched war? We are like pigs to the slaughter, drawn here for different purposes, but all sacrificed in the same manner.
It seems as if you are merely sleeping.
A soldier passes me and claps my shoulder gleefully. You are dead and I’m alive. Even so, this war has destroyed everything I held dear, my reason for living.
How much more of this can we take? People outside may not know it, but we are all broken inside.
All for the glory of our country.[/SIZE]
![[-]](https://gayspeak.com/images/duende_v3_local/collapse.png)
