Marching.
My legs are stiff.
Marching.
They throb.
Marching.
The pain in my joints in unbearable.
Marching.
Shots fired.
I can not move.
Shots fired.
I can't make a sound.
Shots fired.
I watch everyone around me.
Shots fired.
I don't understand where their motivation comes from.
They come storming at me.
I am overwhelmed.
The bayonet slices.
Stabbing.
Tearing the muscle of my heart.
Punching.
My stomach convulses.
I walk home from school.
Screams.
They echo.
Ricocheting in my mind.
Drowned into a pillow.
Marching.
Marching.
200 days a year.
Marching.
Keep going.
200 days to go.
Marching.
Marching.
Marching.
Escape is soon.
Don't you dare succumb yet.
You are so close.
Just.
Keep.
Marching.
