Life Like A Battle Field

Rage pumping like a gun,

Ready to shoot,

Ready to kill.

I can't take the pressure,

Of the falling people,

Pleading for help or love,

Wanting me to take their hands of affection,

When all I am trying to do is survive.

It's a battle field,

And if for one moment,

I release my gaze from its view,

I'll be crushed by a thousand bullets.

It may be crawl for me to be alive,

And not you,

But why condemn me to the same fate as yours,

If I have a chance.

Would you,

Could you do that?

Leave me in this horrid place dying,

Holding my guts safely in my body with one hand

And the other holding out to the nearest living person.

But then, I'm describing you.

Placing one finger on my lips,

Shhh'ing you to a whisper.

I track out, taking cover,

Into the no-mans' zone.

I crawl amongst the living dead,

Prone, hoping they believe me just another desperate soul.

Pulling my rifle out to aim for a shot,

I line up and then startled.

Something touched my leg,

As I turn to look, a soldier, a young man,

Gently pulling, pleading for help.

I tried to shoo him away,

But another came.

More kept on coming,

And I was swept up in a mountain of dying souls.

Now I felt sorry for God or Angels,

As I stood to dust them off,

I curse.

A foreign language shouted out.

I turn to see a man pointing this way,

Another aiming his gun and before I could squeeze another heart beat in,

I was shocked with bolts of pain.

My life flashed before my eyes that day,

I also died that day.

My life hanging by a string,

Someone came along and dragged me to the light.

When I came to,

I laid amongst millions of insane men,

Traumatised, strapped to their beds.

Struggling to get up,

I'm strapped too,

My fate has been sewed to these men,

For life, till I lose.