Monologue

It feels as if I live in a daze, in a fog.
My mind isn’t working; I’ve turned into a killing machine.
My arms and my legs aren’t connected to me.
The nightmares live on inside of me.
Nightmares of a kid sitting scared stiff on the ground.
Only the earth is there to protect him.
The sound of gunfire rings through his ears.
He wishes he could have done more in his small nineteen years.
And I mean, this kid is terrified.
I know this because,
That kid was me.