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Is there ever a good time to quit?
The ringing in my ears,
The blood on my hands.
I've grown past my years in just a few months.
The blood on my hands...it won't go away.
The screaming of war in the night fills my dreams with uneasiness, and rest never returns sanity.
It has gone on too long, and in my trembling hand I can barely hold onto my life.
My own blood on my hands....
My own blood on my friends hands....
Togeather we hold onto my life...
And the burden becomes so much less...
Sleep is the only exit...
Sleep...
Freedom, thank you my friend.
©2007-2009 ~ArticusTalon
:iconarticustalon:

Author's Comments

A open poem relating to many things, I just write them, its up to you to decide how they make you feel.

Comments


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:iconbananastickerstealer:
i really like the opening line; it definitely draws the reader in.

Details

August 4, 2007
740 bytes

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