My feet hit the wet pavement. I keep running, running, running . . .
I don't know what I live for anymore. This is not the world I was supposed to be in. Blinded by war, deafened with the sound of bombs in the red sky, filled with unfamiliar soldiers marching left and right.
I am only a boy, I am only 17. But in the reflections off the broken glass in the street I see a man.
Run, run, run . . .
I've hardened inside. Death and pain have become so natural in my world. I don't know who I stand for anymore.
Myself?
Or my country.
I always imagined going to school, getting a degree in law, becoming a famous lawyer someday. I'd move to America and start a family, live until I'm ancient.
But now I never know if this will be my final day. Each meal could be my last, each kiss is more passionate than the first, each goodbye harder than the one before. Where's this world I've heard about in the old days? A better tomorrow, a better world.
My uniform marks who I am . . . a friend or an enemy. It decides whether I live or die. It decides whom I kill. It decides my future, past, and present.
I try to find an answer.
Help me escape. I'm tired of holding this gun. I'm tired of being on the battlefield. I can't deal with the fact this is someone else's blood I have on my hands, blood that I spilt.
I can't deal with the fact that to win we must kill.
Death . . . living death.
That's what I am.
A soldier, living death.
-msof57
Author's Note: This was inspired by "Come Clean" by Hilary Duff. The setting is supposed to be in London in World War II.
