It has been three years. Living in this dark, pungent underground bunker is no pleasant experience. I have been enduring this torment for a long time. When is this going to end? I do not know.

I ask my dad. I ask my mum. I ask my brother. I ask my friends.

“When is this going to end?”

“I don’t know,” is their unanimous reply.

Often, I am left alone to face the perpetual darkness. Everyone has to go out and brave dangers looking for food. Except me. I am too young, they claim. Every day the numbers in the bunker reduces. My best friend, Charmaine, has gone missing for four days. Is this monotonous lifestyle ever going to end?

Yes. But when? Nobody knows.

Today is yet another boring day. Gunshot noises reverberate through my ears; it is a daily routine. Dad has not come back. Has anything happened to him? I do not know.

I feel that I seem to be living in a world of oblivion. There are no answers to my questions. Perhaps this is the adult world that my mum constantly drones to me about. Perhaps this is reality that is devoid in fantasies, in storybooks. Perhaps, and many perhaps.

There are many things that I cannot comprehend. Who is Hitler? Why does he want to exterminate us French? Is he some devil sent by Satan? Why are all Germans trying to kill us? Did we do something wrong? Why do they have to punish me by making me stay in this foul-smelling place and I cannot roam along the streets freely like other children as seen on television? Is this my childhood?

I miss dad and Natalie. I love them. Will they come back?

I cannot read on any further. She is an innocent child no more than fourteen. Her adolescence, her childhood, her life, has been desecrated by us, Germans. I have killed many, yet I feel nothing. My heart pounds rapidly and my head hurts. Guilt engulfs me like a malicious fire, consuming every bit of my conscious. Remorse overwhelms me. This is a letter by a young little girl, but this saddens me. An abyss of insanity mocks at me as the bloodied corpse lay there motionless. I am disgusted.

I have killed this defenseless young girl without flinching.

Where is humanity? Indeed, I am forced to be conscripted. I am tasked to destroy more children’s childhood. I have no choice; for my childhood is ruined too. I am just a sixteen year old soldier.







I slide my way down the waterfall. This is the start of my journey. I clash with my friends on the bottom of the waterfall- this signifies the start of life. I am bursting full of vitality, ready to experience the world.

I stream jovially through the meandering river. The wildlife along the bank mesmerizes me thoroughly. The spectacle of horses galloping through the lush grasslands is simply a sight to behold. The grass sways exuberantly at each puff of mother wind, basking under the gentle warmth of the sun. Majestic eagles liberate the azure skies, their ferocious stares send chills down my spine as they target unsuspecting prey for their lunch with their gargantuan might and perfect accuracy.

I squeeze my way through the canals. Children at the park engage themselves enthusiastically at a plethora of activities, wearing radiant smiles on their faces, enjoying every moment of freedom they possess. Adults cower from the sunlight, retreating to the straw pavilions, immersing themselves in the other realm their book provides; while the others simply relax and engages in casual conversations.

I inch through the pitch black tunnel with trepidation. Bat screeches echo along the long tunnel, compounding the eeriness that accompanies my trek through unknown darkness. I am overwhelmed by the realm of perpetual darkness.
Should I proceed, or not?

I reach a dead end. There is light in front, but somehow, I cannot proceed. This is weird. What is happening? Is there a blockage? I am deep in my thoughts, pondering on my next move. Suddenly, an invisible force thrusts me forward, breaking my flow of thoughts.

I wriggle through the smelly, dirty cotton nettings with difficulty. It exhausts much of my strength, I am lethargic. I feel uncomfortable, I become grey and reek of stale break. How do I regain my previous clean self?

I flow into a foreign river. The current is strong; I become part of a rapid. I am carefree. I course along the current of the river with anticipation. Where does this propel me to?

I reach a reservoir. Tranquility prevails. It offers me a sanctuary of peace, enabling me to regain my energies to embark on a new chapter of my life. I rest enough. I am raring to go.
The sweltering heat makes me feel light. I feel hot. I see myself rising up to the skies. I observe the objects under me. They resemble miniature Lego pieces. Fluffy white clouds surround me. Ignorance blinds me. What is happening next?

Soon, the clouds turn grey. I feel heavy again.

Am I going to fall down from the skies and die?

I plummet down the skies at breakneck speed. I am shivering; it is extremely cold. I notice that I am one of the many pelting raindrops.

“Splash”

I return to the mountains. I close my eyes as I brace myself for another slide down the waterfall.

“Thud”

This sounds unfamiliar. It is even painful. I open my eyes and see my teacher in front of me, antagonized.

“Enough of your imaginations!” Mr. Heng hollered at me.







BENT double, like old beggars under sacks
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!---An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, throughh the mistry panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,---
my friend, you would not tell me with such high zest
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.







Methought she purged the air of pestillence.
That instant was I turned into a hart,
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er since pursue me.







IM DEAD







The desire is overwhelming,
Desire to hold her in my arms,
Yet, I cannot.
She is so near that we are almost touching,
so close ......
Yet, i cannot.
Her scent unwavers me,
so faint, yet so overpowering,
Yet, I cannot.
My heart wrenches,
My arms aches,
Yet, I cannot.
WHY? Why hast thou been borne this?
WHY? Why hast heaven's above punish me?
Why can't I embrace her thus?
Why can't I promulgate my true feeling?
but alas!
Social norms hold me in tight bondage,
Restraining every inch of my body ad soul.
I'm stuck between my heart's infatuation and my mind's reason.
Between love and current life,
Between desire and restrain.
I'm stuck.
Stuck.
I'm obliged to immerse in either,
Yet, I cannot.
My heart whispers me of desire,
My mind urges restrain,
I must choose,
Yet, I cannot.
Stuck in the mines between love and reason,
I yearn to escape to either side,
Yet, I cannot.
Alas !
The examinations draws closer,
The craving for her diminishes,
I pine at least for a hiding place,
Yet, I cannot

Designer: ♥BONBON:D
Base Codes: -ambulance
Image: hearthermes
Brushes: 1 2
Hosts: Blogger Photobucket
edited in adobe photoshop cs3

you profile here.
also a good place to practice narcissism
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