Bitter Coward

The midst of a catacombs, a nonentity burial site for the innocent, the warriors, the soldiers, the spies, and the people whose lives were sacrificed for the sake of the war for the better, the war to end wars.

Malodorous was the vicinity, stained with blood of the deceased, wretched by the trapped souls of the innocent, and the breeze of death overhung in the air, sustaining the stale atmosphere, where life ceased to exist, being a bane to the existence, the very concept of peace.

Treading through the throes of the war, I rummaged from the coruscation of hope, the lost hope. I skimmed through the grounds of war, stepping over decapitated body parts of my lost comrades. My thought burst in tears, in grief, not knowing why was I standing here, is it just to suffer…?

Step by step, clarity emerged, wiping away the fog of fear that wreathed my conscience. I was a coward, someone worse than trash, hiding from the battle, witnessing my comrades battle till their deaths.

Bitterness surged my palates. It was even worse to see them die in front of my eyes, the compunction, the guilt, the culpability of choosing to hide.

Head tilted up into the sky. The bitter taste of the steel gun was all that I relished before I choked on my blood, the blood of a coward, a piece of scum.

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Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

5 thoughts on “Bitter Coward

  1. Hello, you used to write magnificent, but the last few posts have been kinda boring… I miss your tremendous writings. Past few posts are just a little out of track! come on!

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