I don’t think about those things anymore.
On days like these it’s nothing but a useless reminder
Days when the storm creeps up on you.
The rain catches me off guard and suddenly I’m pelted by cold and wetness.
The old compulsion is to miss having a roof over my head.
Thinking about warm dry clothes to change into.
But these days.
The idea of a roof over my head.
Makes me uneasy.
Just another box for me to crawl into and wait for death to knock on the walls.
In this new world these feelings have no trouble creeping up on you.
I’ve seen them tear the strongest men to shreds.
I’ve seen it.
On their faces.
A defeated look.
A look of being forced to fear the very things we fought for, the things we miss so dearly.
I’ve seen that hopeless look, and right before it happens I cold swear they were smiling.
Right before they put the gun in their mouth.
Right before they willed themselves out.
The easy way
The coward’s way.
Instead of stories to mourn, we scramble to collect their ammo and whatever else they won’t be needing.
One less mouth to feed.
It isn’t supposed to feel this way.
The doom has soaked into everything we have left.
I don’t think about those things anymore.
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