In darknes, and disaster
clutched in the claws of Satan.

Bones being ripped
from the muscles that cling
to them.

Pain, and panic
accompany each other
till death do they part.

I fear this will be soon.

I'm only 19.
Is this the end?
I dread their return.

To be captured, tortured
what did I do
for destiny to be so cruel?

I fear for Lori.
For her two little kids. What happened to her?

I fear for Lori.
I fear for me.
I fear many things.

Life never ceases to surprise me.
The pain is unbearable.

I am a soldier.
I msut remain strong.
But its hard, with the pain.

It cuts into my
thoughts like a sharpened knife.

Its hard to think,
hard to breathe.
Am I suffocating?
Or choking on my terror?

And what about the others?
I heard screams in the night,
and I fear they have been
taken out of action.

But why, though?
Questions haunt me in the quiet hours.
When they have gone away,
and I am free to let the tears run.

Although it is never completely silent.
There are no crickets to chirp,
no friendly voices to ring out
or whispered secrets
to be told in little-girl's rooms.

This is a desolate place,
it seems to be the very spawn of hate.
A place where no eye should behold,
lest it burn in it's socket.

I fear anyone left here
for a long period of time
will wither away to a blackened lump
of cruelty and hate.

Is this what is to become of me?

I am ashamed to even think the thought:
I have contemplated suicide.
No soldier should.
I and my companions swore na oath to protect,
and I wish to do that.

I am not a callous machine.
I vow to protect and shelter.
protect and shelter whom?

I am not sheltered here.
I have had a chance to nurse
my rage
and strangely, my pity.

I feel for the children
but am I not a child as well?
The eight-year-old eyes that should be innocent
are hardened with hatred toward me,
cold as the gun in the baby-fat fingers.

I feel broken,
emotionally and physically.
Painfully physically.
I keep going back to the pain.


 
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