“You want to scream, crush something under your fingertips,
Or feel something fragile break between your teeth.
There is a blood spatter on the back of your hand
That won’t come off no matter how hard you scrub.
There is dirt under the blunt ends of your fingernails
From the day you cracked completely
Baring your teeth to the sky which yielded no answers to your silent questions.
There is a weight on your soul and it bears down like a iron chain around your heart. There are two hands of fear that have wrapped their lanky fingers around your throat, and squeezed the life giving oxygen right out of your godforsaken lungs.”
the cry of a soldier | a.h.