• A storm was cast overhead as a young boy exited the trenches of the dead war zone. He keeps thinking to himself 'this was a mistake' over and over again as he tries to creep slowly as to not disrupt the bombs he's walking on.
    He fears for his life everyday and is always wondering what if he stayed in his home town, the place he feels he belongs. What if he never signed his name on that paper to come and defend. Defend what? He doesn't even know. He wanted to be a part of something bigger then himself and the little town he grew up in. He wanted to have an experience of a lifetime, something he could be proud of and say he was courageous enough to be put through. He grew up not knowing what else was out there, sheltered from the world. He wished he was there, inside his room with his parents watching over him, instead of in this godforsaken land, constantly living in terror. Knowing not of what will come, but always remembering where he came from.
    Lead by a masochistic bloodthirsty leader he marched into the war zone that day. Another day of fear, same as the others in which he had put himself in day in and day out. Up till that point he questioned everything in his life. His family, his home, these wars, his home country. everything he had ever known he began to question. That day marked the end of questioning for him. There were no more "what ifs" flooding through the air in a thick stream of smog that suffocated him.
    His life spilled along the pavement as his fellow fighters watched in horror as the same thought that he, that one man, had thought filled in their heads and began to suffocate them as they thought "What if?"