The trenches

you remember the trenches, muddy and wet. the bodies blocking the path. the battle continued as the dead lay around me and i thought to myself, how nice. i think ill have a smoke now. you start not to care too much as death consumes your life. day by day, month by month the bombs fell and the bodies filled the trenches. arms lay away from there owner, maggots eating away, heads only half there as their brains add to the muddy mess i trudge through. this war will never end, it only continues on. still lost in this maze i look at the faces around me and they all just look the same. every face, unmistakably blank as if life had left him and he took a vacation from himself. the eyes cold and yet piercing as if they could peer into your soul. I share there expression. A comfortably numb and cold desolate existence this has become and as odd as it seems i cant live without it. death has taken hold of me and i have become to embrace the lifes i take and why. it brings balance out of the chaos. a statistic which must remain true. through the blood and the masses of death, balance remains in the muddy trenches and death is only the beginning. so when you come to the trenches prepare yourself to be forever changed. Forever haunting us these memories will never fade. Many return home but only few live on. And like many I have become comfortably numb.  

By Matthew Branton