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She is my Muse, She is my Lover, She is my Everything.

The creeping darkness, twists and writhes, like a serpent for the kill, chokes you and your cries. You walk through the trench, the mess… if only a way to wake from this trance… The anxious darkness presses down, unbearable, suffocating, silent. Before you tackle the front line, they ask if you are ready, you nod, and sigh, but we all echo empty lies, trying to recall or forget the taken lives, fighting the soldiers, fighting the cries, and through the dark, you echo the pain of loss and death of friends, again and again.

There he was, the lone soldier, standing at the peak of the clouded cliff, contemplating its craggy edge. He turned his eyes away, as his legs gave way, leaving him to the ground. He sat upright, only to fall back down again. He could not feel himself. He felt alienated from his world, as if everything that had transpired had brought out a demon from within him that had ensnared his sanity, taken over, and imprisoned his own free will, leaving it to choke on the sadness left in the demon’s wake. The thick fog in the night clouded his mind. It was a sickening sensation, as if his senses were struggling to regain consciousness, but, inevi