I was born into a war zone.
Everywhere i turned, I saw destruction,
Fighting and screaming and pain.
Dilapidated buildings crumbling around me.
I became a little child soldier,
Thrust into the middle of battle.
The enemy in this war was so much bigger,
How was I expected to fight them off?
I came armed with a stick,
Play pretend it was a knife.
I was still a child after all.
I came armed with innocence.
My hands shook holding my "weapons,"
Because the enemy advanced with real ones.
They came for me with claws and strength.
What could I do to stop them?
I became a prisoner of war
In a place I should have been safe.
Tortured in the sheets of a traitor's bed.
Even allies become aggressors in this war.
Shards of metal slice and scar my arms,
Thrown through the air by bombs going off.
Bombs of violence, alcoholism, suicide threats.
Explosions are so loud for tiny ears.
I lived in a war zone for 17 years,
And crawled out on my hands and knees.
I lost the war.
But at least I got out alive.