Men get hit and die.
They scream as they fall to the ground. Covered in blood, next to the bodies of their friends and enemies.
In every face I can see a likeness. I see the face of someone I love, dying, for nothing.
I can easily picture myself out there, fighting for my life in the streets of Berlin. I don't mind, I almost want it. Almost want to die fighting for my country, and end up as a nameless body lying in the mud where thousands of soldiers will pass, on their way to the next battlefield.
If you can why can't I?
But whenever I see that beloved face of mine my stomach hurts and my body screams.

I read words. Words that hurt.
I know it's over. And I accept that with a sad smile on my lips.
I do not want to accept it. But unfortunately I do.
There is no way I can change it back. No matter what I say or do.
I will just have to accept that my dream just broke, the wish I had for my future life will not come true.

There is a empty and cold hole inside of me. A part of me died.











I just felt like emptying (is that even a word?) my head.