Two Years Have Passed.

Two years have passed, I'll keep growing cold.
Until the day I'm shot dead, or just grow old.
My family now dead, my life now a mess.
My joy and pride, gone.  I'm now depressed.

Stuck in a war, stuck in a place.
Where every single day, is a deadly race.
I struggle to live, but I wish I can say,
"Death please, come.  Please take me away".

The sky turns black, it rains and pours
While inflicting damage to my wounds and sores.
My heart now cold, am I losing my mind?
I lost my sympathy for others, I am no longer kind.

A frail child runs up to me, what do I do?
I have suffered two years, with hatred as food.
It gives me a bear hug, my heart feels the pain
To kill tihs child.  I shoved it aside and yelled, "Run Away!"

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Meh, I tried.