Battle Wounds

Location

There's a war inside my head and it just won't stop. I was told the biggest battle is the one in your head. The bullets hit like words spewed in my direction from a classmate too oblivious to be able to notice to blood dripping from my open wounds.

How would they know? How could they know?

I'm running through trenches I've built on my own, and the horrifying fact is the people I'm slaying aren't my brothers or family, but myself.

They bare my face and mirror my scars. 

I see the pills go down like whiskey, and it kills the pain. For now.

The flask is in hand as the doctor performs the amputation. Take a pill, lose a limb. It seems an even trade, right? It seems okay to lose the half of you which makes you unique simply because it might kill you. It will kill you. In a matter of time, sure, but it catches up.

The ups and downs which are blowing me around like the bombs exploding underneath the ground. it deafens reality.

I still haven't left my bed. But the machine guns shatter the air, shaking my very core until suddenly there is silence.

Not even the birds will chirp.

Now the only sound filling the air is the screeching of my responsibilities mimicking vultures ready to attack and eat their prey alive. I'm going to be eaten alive. I will die in this war zone.

But not yet. 

I'm not ready to go; I'm not ready to go.

So, I crawl back into the trenches and close my eyes. When I open them I put one foot on the floor.

Today I made it out of bed.

Today I won the battle in my mind.

This poem is about: 
Me

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