As the blood covers my hands, I tread among that napalm-withered planet with no one; the memories of the past do not matter. What I do,o I will never see them again among the corpses of fallen comrades; I remain as a sick twist of fate. Why of all people, do I live? I feel overloaded with nothingness and everything. I keep on limping on that fucking planet for what purpose, as I see the sun go down, only the moon with its light mocking me. My body feels like a witch burning as a sacrifice or penance to whatever god they seem to have dishonored. The iron in my mouth tastes rotten and bitter. ̵I̴ ̸c̶a̷n̴ ̵b̴e̷ ̶w̸h̶a̴t̶e̴v̷e̴r̴ ̷e̷v̷e̴r̶y̴b̸o̴d̸y̸ ̷w̸a̶n̵t̷s̶. Leaving nothing but a trail of blood. As I limp closer to the ship, I play with my senator,r spinning its bar, pointing the gun to my head and clicking nothing again and again and again.
There was no bullet
After all, I can be whatever anybody wants.
