She waits in line, with her gun in hand, she keeps track of the time, about to start dreaming about this land.
The sky is red, just like the blood that she'll shed, she wants to win the war, she's keeping track of the score, has a list of her kills, knowing it takes a-lot of her skills.
Kids cry, mothers and fathers die, she begins to spy, tells the kids her lies, her job isn't one that she enjoys, she wishes she didn't have to destroy, she leaves it all behind, just to start losing her mind.
She hears the children's screams in her head, every night that she goes to bed, it makes her cry, makes her wish that she could just get up and fly.
The emotion is raw, the feelings inside attack her like a saw, she wants to live another life, just to get out of this lie, she knows she isn't nasty, just this world makes you change and people start to believe you're crazy.
YOU ARE READING
This Is Your Voice
PoetryA selection of poetry, that I have written from the last three years. An anthology of my poems from the last three years, which I have put together, for everyone to enjoy, about survival, love, heartbreak and pain, and my own experiences in life. ...
