Nothing can fill this gaping hole in me that has grown so deep it is consuming the remnants of my soul that war was so kind as to leave behind.
I had nothing.
I lost nothing.
No joy.
No pain.
Feel nothing and you won't get hurt.
They said I could start over, become a real person.
My knowledge of life is limited to death.
Reach for the sky, they told me; nothing is beyond your grasp.
My wings were clipped long ago. I can't fly. Never knew how anyways, so what's the sense.
There is none.
Life is non-sense. Everything and one is confused, that is what brought about wars.
I have no use now.
I have fulfilled my destiny.
How do I know? I feel out of place. Taking up too much room. I'm in the way.
Life is cheap especially mine.
Will this gun in my hand close this growing hole that has now become apart of me? Or will it make it wider? No doubts should enter my thoughts. They interfere with the mission.
Maybe that was what my life was.
A mission.
It felt like that. I can finally end it.
The dreams. The cries of evil, mercy, desperation… will no longer torment me.
I will be free from this messed up life. I will claim freedom.
