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The Humming Birds Song
I don't why I scream my heart out to others,
my soul seems so far away.
I cry out my life, an instrument to my sorrow.
Will I be with you if you decide to stay?
This looking glass in front of me,
it tells me that I am wrong.
That this story that I tell,
is not the humming birds song.
And so I will fly,
waiting for the stars to reach out to me.
And if I dare to fall...
I hope, when you look up, that its me you'll see.
but not for long...
I sing the humming birds song.
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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