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Saved - PoemWho wants to be saved?
I don't mind,
falling down into the abysm.
I don't belong anywhere,
I don't want to be saved,
I don't need your promises,
I wasn't born for the light,
I have no place
and I'm not looking for one.
I won't reach for your hand
as I sink to the bottom of the dark waters,
I have waited for help before
but it never arrived.
I'm used to be lost,
so used to wander
that the feeling of being attached to a place,
that the feeling of having to return somewhere at the end of the day
Who wants to be safe?
Who needs empty promises to survive?
Who needs someone else's hopes to stand?
I don't want your hand,
I don't care that this world is being torn apart.
I was born to fall,
at the immense emptiness of nothingness I feel fine.
If I can't stand I will still stand,
I will rather be broken than bowing.
You, all, go away,
keep your promises to yourselves
Don't you see I get on well with the dark?
Don't you see all I need is the Moon to sh
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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