PTSD

Oh Izzabella its so hard out here in this war … so many battles on so many fronts … days filled with death and destruction.

Battlegrounds red and brown … wars within and without … corporations raising prices and keeping wages stagnant. Loved ones falling in battle, clinging onto life, screaming their despair, looking to you to put together the pieces only god can resurrect.

Each soldier fighting his own personal battles within the larger conflict. Chaos reigning no one winning. Battlefield commanders with blinders on pushing forward the fight while the army disintegrates and the generals direct force from within their cyber sanctuaries.

And i on the sidelines seeking a non existant respite from the pain. Stumbling forward back into battle with the weight of the world drawing me toward the center of the earth. Each step mired in the muck leaving my boots buried and my next blind step finds my naked foot impaled on the previous day’s shrapnel and in the distance the enemy entrenches itself deeper and the fallen fighter rises up and runs away, lives to fight another day.

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