I am greeted in the morning by the sound of gun shots impairing everyone but me. I am trampled on by unwanted visitors, I appear to mean nothing in a time of despair. I get shot at, and accept the bullets fully. The one's whose lives I save means more than those who died in battle. I know none of the fallen, but they all appear to know my name. I know nobody outside this wretched place, but even they know who I am. They curse me for their lost, for those they couldn't save. The men who come alive say I am to blame. They blame me for the fallen, for those who stay and can't leave. I have been forced to take in more than two hundred, who are as cold as I. I hate my place, everyone says things to demean me when I see more destruction in hours than they see in days. I see more blood and gore in days than a surgeon sees in a life time. I feel the blood seeping into my depths. I bury the bodies to keep them safe until this has all ended. I am the place who takes the lost to a better place. When people only weep, because the one they once knew has left them for me. I am the one who survives the millions of bullets that pierce my flesh. I am the only one who will never die, and never leave. I am the battle field that is forced to take so many people away.
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