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MENDOTA Ch. 1 - SundaySUNDAY OCTOBER 14TH - HEAD OF THE ROCK
I have never been so confused in my entire life.
I'm on the ground now; my eyes are shut tight and my head is engulfed in a terrible pain.
"Hailey?" I sit up, my hands hold the back of my head and I slowly open my eyes. "Hailey?" All I can see is the rigger of a boat nearly toughing a wooden dock. Rain is pouring. "Are you alright?" a male voice asks and I can see that it is the dock master. I realize what is going on and I scramble to my feet. My head is throbbing. "Umm...Yeah, I guess." I manage to respond; I even add in an attempted smile as I put the gunnel of the boat back on to my shoulder.
"Now are you sure?" a high-pitched female voice asks. It is the same voice that was calling me earlier. "To row?" I look out at the Rock River in front of me. "It's too late to back out now." I reply. My feet edge towards the side of the dock and my boatmates and I lift the four above our heads only to place the boat in the swirling grey water near our fe
I lost everything once
When I started out
I was just like you
I had many supporting brothers and sisters
I had all the guidence and hope I needed
I was happy
But what happens when things start to fade away?
What happens when your second family begins to drift?
What happens when guidence and hope slowly disappear?
All you can do is pray
And attempt to live in a bubble of your own false happiness
Thinking that you still have is good enough
And that the bare minimums are all you need
I sat it that seat once
I had lost more than you had ever won
I watched as one by one
Those who I loved walked out the door
And disappeared with the warm spring air
I had everything last March
But I died last April
PerfediaAll those words I never said
Lost in Perfedia
Longing for blue skies
Now all I see is grey
Longing for sun
All I feel is rain
Wanting for there to be an us
Now it's only me
Waiting for hours upon days
Days upon weeks
To hear your footsteps come from around that corner
To see the beautiful darkness
Of your midnight brown hair
The gentleness of your warm sepia eyes
And the eternal youth of your smile
But you never came
And I take my heart back with a sigh
But Perfedia said good-bye
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.
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
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