I Held a 7 Yr Old Girl While She Died In My Arms

Her last breath haunts me. The look on her face, the way her body felt, and how lost and alone she seemed. I hate myself for this.


    A flow of liquid, thickened by hate, ran down the contours of my arms.  My breath-- heavy, scared.  Screams wail out nearby, bringing pain to my ears, and the sound of frantic footsteps renders me anxious. I'm in Afghanistan.  An enemy rocket hit a school...
    liveinlove liveinlove
    18-21, M
    3 Responses Oct 26, 2007
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