Life is but a battlefield

Life is but a battlefield.
Messy, bloody, lawless, seemingly hopeless.
Always turning your head, looking in all directions to prepare for impact.
Will you live? Will you die? Will you surrender to the enemy or will you be a victorious war hero? Will you sacrifice your life for another? Will you sacrifice another life for your own?
Who are you fighting for? Who’s the real enemy? The side forcing you to partake in this bloodbath or the side that wants you dead?
Sometimes death seems kind, like a warm hug. Sometimes you want to hug back. Sometimes, when war is surrounding you and all you can see is blood and all you can hear is screaming, death can seem inviting. Like the only possible option. Like surviving the war and celebrating victory seems so far away, like it’s not worth all the bloodshed and agony. Death is silence. Peace. Eternal sleep.
Fighting seems stupid when you can just lay down your weapons and let go. Embrace death like an old friend.
At the same time, it’s not like you want to die. It’s just that you can’t find the strength to fight anymore. Might as well just give up. What’s the point of fighting when you’re not even sure what you’re fighting for?
Life is so cruel, trial upon trial, battle upon battle. A never ending war. Friends die, family betrays. Those small victories are nothing compared to the sorrow and despair that follow me wherever I go, filling me up.
My constant companions.
Making me weak, pushing me down.
I don’t want them to. I don’t want them to win.
I want them to go away.
But I’m tired. I’m so, so tired.
Life is draining me, being alive is exhausting.
This battlefield will be the death of me.
Unless I win.
Please, God, please give me the strength to win.
Se neste verk: Dikt, uten navn

Life is but a battlefield

Lisa Østern

Lisa Østern

10 måneder, 1 uke siden (212 besøk)

Kommentarer

  • Lise Forfang Grimnes

    10 måneder, 1 uke siden

    Hei Lisa. Takk for at jeg fikk lese denne teksten. Det er en slags monolog, er det ikke? Første delen får jeg soldat-følelsen, at det er en faktisk krig vi snakker om. Men så skifter synsvinkelen fra "you" til "I" mot slutten, og da tenker jeg at det er en indre krig vi snakker om. Gjør du det skiftet bevisst? Da må du fortelle litt om det, for jeg ble nysgjerrig. Jeg likte teksten godt, den er voldsom og brutal og full av refleksjoner.

    Jeg har et lite forslag til deg angående å bruke linjeskift. Jeg klipper direkte fra teksten din (har ikke gjort noen forandringer i selve teksten), se hva du synes om dette, jeg går inn midt i:

    (...)

    Sometimes death seems kind, like a warm hug. Sometimes you want to hug back. Sometimes, when war is surrounding you and all you can see is blood and all you can hear is screaming, death can seem inviting. Like the only possible option. Like surviving the war and celebrating victory seems so far away, like it’s not worth all the bloodshed and agony.

    Death is silence.
    Peace.
    Eternal sleep.

    Fighting seems stupid when you can just lay down your weapons and let go. Embrace death like an old friend.
    At the same time, it’s not like you want to die. It’s just that you can’t find the strength to fight anymore. Might as well just give up. What’s the point of fighting when you’re not even sure what you’re fighting for?

    (...)

    Vet ikke hva du tenker, men jeg synes det var litt virkningsfullt å sette de ordene etter hverandre med luft i mellom på hver side. Det bretter fram kraften i ordene. Det er gøy (synes jeg) å leke litt med linjeskift og luft på denne måten. Gleder meg til å lese mer du skriver. Spør hvis jeg ikke har forklart meg godt nok.

More from Lisa

Other in the tekst category