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when you die, so do I."Kenny, NOOO!!!!!!" I screamed desperately.
He just, jumped, in front of me, that should be me! I should be the one on the road, the dirty filthy road
"Kenny " I whimpered.
I know he'll come back, but it still hurts, when he dies, when he's gone. He doesn't always come back the next day, sometimes it takes him weeks, to find his way back to us.
I grabbed him, by his famous orange hoodie, how could he do this to me? I would have just gone to the hospital, Kenny always died. He never went to the hospital first, always death, as soon as anything happens.
I looked into his beautiful blue eyes, those eyes I wanted so badly
"Kenny, don't you dare go, you're going to stay here, and you're not leaving!"
He smiled, showing a mouthful of blood, my heart lurched.
"I'll be back I'll always be...back it won't...be long." His eyes seemed sad though. His breathing became more ragged.
"Kenny, Kenny!" I wanted to tell him, I've always wanted to tell him, I wanted t
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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