Soldier

It's funny how everything seems like its okay, and then shit hits the fan like nothing.

Like, I'm just expected to keep my head high, look like a brave soldier, when in my head that brave soldier lay on the battlefield with a sword in her ribs. 
Or how I'm the soldier that hides instead of fights at the first sign of danger. 
I embarrass myself in front of my entire platoon, constantly telling myself that I can do it when physically I cannot. I hold my head a little lower than the rest of the soldiers because I am defeated inside.
It' harder than it sounds, holding your head up when it feels like it weighs a million tons. 
my shoulders drop down a bit more, held down by the weight of my insecurities. 

I realized I was not a kid anymore when I was drafted in this god forsaken Army.

Get me out of here! I can't take it any more!

I can't take the mental abuse, the pain....

the blood....

I'm all out of fight.....  

This poem is about: 
Me

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