As I lay still,
I remember the feeling
of a nightmare’s pass —
a horrible corridor of suffering,
where I run without end.

I remember the feeling
of thrusting my bayonet.
I remember the feeling
of her caressing my head,
telling me it’s going to be alright.

My sins in this mortal realm
manifest into nightmares
when I am no longer awake.

My soul remembers the pain
it has inflicted upon you.

I am sorry.