Life comes by in instances, so when I saw one flash before my eyes every moment became a relentless flickering of days melting to daze- disorienting.
Every day I spent going towards the light. I had hoped the patches of dirt would leave my pants. Blindly feeling my face to wipe the facade of a soldier off only to smear it in.
Its all pointless, always tugging my backpack expecting a lighter load each time- weighted and waiting for guidance amidst the gun powder and an expecting purple heart.
I have no sense of direction, albeit I never did. Maybe I had always been dead. Who knows?