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Treason
I've taken hits.
I've dodged some bullets.
But I've been hit by a bomb
And I'm broken.
I've lost the one thing I need to survive
...My soldiers
I've lost my soldiers...
I've been dropped.
I've been chipped.
Patched, stitched, and glued.
I've been dropped so many times,
I don't know how much more
I can take before actually break.
A crack no one could ever repair.
A hairline crack.
They're small,
People think they're nothing,
But I've one in my heart.
It's growing bigger,
I'm losing strength.
This crack is more than "nothing".
The bomb dropped upon me,
Caused so much damage.
It wasn't like being dropped,
It hurt worse,
It almost killed me,
I lost limbs...
I lost faith...
Could this be it?
Could this be fixed?
Can I be saved?
Because I've lost the one thing
I need to survive...
I've lost my trust....
My own soldiers dropped the bomb...
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This year, I've been backstabbed quite a few times. So many of my "friends" are proving to not be. As I lay, pondering thoughts, I think about a war, a commander and her soldiers, how would she feel if her own troop...tried to kill her...a lot like I've been feeling...