dust is blowing in your face. you’re lying, facing upwards, on the cold ground. you laugh.
your heart hurts, and you realize this might have been all for nothing. you realize you might have lost the fight before it even started.
your bones splinter
(and isn’t that ironic? in these dying moments, you feel alive)
you pray to ares. your breath is threatening to leave your lungs, but you need to know. you need to know this wasn’t all for nothing
(but this is war, what did you expect?)
can you hear them? warriors just like you, their soulless cries echoing through eternity -
what are you still doing here? why don’t you follow them?
(maybe you are different after all, you and them)
the war is not over and you are not done
(your heart still hasn’t broken your ribs after all)