War

The gun shots ring. Even now, even home.

Like a dog, well trained, when the orders were given I’d bark on command and follow them. You say jump my follow-up is, how high? I look back and find that I hate who I am because of what I’ve done.
My patriotic state of mind bled ignorance. I’d take all my actions back if I could. Even jail time is better than the existence of memories. If my will to live were weaker, I wouldn’t.  My training is to survive like an animal, at all costs, and that is the one thing I thank them for, but I would give it up in an instant to take back the services I’ve lent a broken nation. Our greed and abuse knows no bounds, and I doubt it will ever.

By Anonymous Writer