literature

Sound The Bugle

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Literature Text

“Sound the bugle now, play it just for me…”

  I sung those words low from my favorite movie “Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron”. I didn't know what else to sing. I was too numb and useless to care.

“As the seasons change, remember how… I use to be.”

  My voice cracks at the last part, but I clear my throat and keep my chin up. I didn't know if it was stubbornness or pride that kept me singing, all I knew is that I needed to sing.

“Now I can’t go on, I can’t even start.”

  I’ve called out for help so many times and come back empty handed. No one helps. I can’t even hear God anymore. I can feel him, but I can’t see him. That part sucks the most; being blind to him. I hate it. My head tilts down a bit.

“I’ve got nothing left, just an empty heart…”

  Now I’m crying like a pathetic kid who lost her lollipop. I can’t seem to do anything but cry. It’s been like that for two years. Well, off and on my whole life, but it’s been worse the past two. I've been raised to be tough, not sit and cry because something didn't go my way. I can’t stand anymore though, I just can’t. My legs shake and my knees give in. I can’t. My head drops, facing the ground, and tears slide off my face, watering the baby flowers that glowed under the moonlight.

“I’m a soldier, wounded so I, must give up the fight...there’s nothing more for me, lead me away…”

  I hate being weak. I hate acting like this. My face is wet and my throat is throbbing from staying quiet. I don’t wanna be mad but I am. I wanna forget but I can’t. I wanna tell someone, but I’m afraid of what they’ll say too. I wanna cry and I am. Makes no sense right? Boy, do I need a hobby.

“Or leave me lying here…”

  I say that last line of verse one, and I take a deep breath in to keep myself from shaking to badly. I need to be strong for everyone. It’s my job to be the leader and everyone is counting on me; but what am I? No longer a soldier for them, that’s for sure. I’ve failed miserably so many times, and now their so far down the road I can’t do anything about it. I “was” their leader.

  How am I supposed to grow up if I can’t even forget the past? So many good memories scarred by so many bad ones. That’s kinda how I got “Scarred Angel” in my online name. Everyone say’s “it’s all part of growing up” but I feel like I’m getting nowhere with “growing up”. I told myself one time that I didn’t wanna grow up because I didn’t like adults telling everyone what to do and what not to do, and then see them doing the things that they told us not to do. Their excuse is “I’m a grown adult and more mature. You’ll understand someday.”

  DAMN I hate that so much. I’ve been so confused about what to do and what not to do because of it, so I don’t do much at all. I can’t even have fun at school anymore unless I’m in the mood to knock someone’s face in. It sucks ass. You can’t even get decent help at the guidance counselor’s office anymore because they go and tell your parents EVERYTHING. (That’s just at my school district).

  Now I feel pathetic putting all this on my shoulders. I just sigh. I don’t care anymore. Just let it weigh me down, I’ll pick it up when I need to.

“Sound the bugle now, tell them I don’t care. There’s not a road I know, that leads to anywhere.”

I continue with the song, my voice barley heard over the whispering wind.

“Without a light I fear that I will stumble in the dark…Lay right down, decide not to go on.”

My voice gets a bit louder for the next part because the notes get higher.

“Then from on high, somewhere in the distance…There's a voice that calls, "Remember who you are"…”

I sit up and look at the stars.

“If you lose yourself, your courage soon will follow, so be strong tonight….Remember who you are.”

I find myself straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin. My back straightens and my face grows determined.

“You're a soldier now, fighting in a battle, to be free once more…yeah, that's worth fighting for.”

  I might not be the best person or the most perfect, but I never give up no how tough it seems. I got a God that’s tougher and I ain’t bein' raised no quitter. One of these days, I’m gonna be free. One of these days, everything will be perfect. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, hell I don’t care when - just as long as I’m the strongest I can be till the end. Today I just forgot, only sidetracked. I won’t make that mistake again.

I stand up and brush my jeans off. It’s time I went to bed for tomorrow. I was gonna need all my energy for a new start. 

I hope this is good.
Song "Sound the bugle" belongs to Hans Zimmer, a great composer 

:heart:

:icondonotuseplz::iconmyartplz:
"blow out your bugles over the rich dead. theres none of these so lonely and poor of old, but dying has made us rarer gifts then gold"
© 2013 - 2024 forty-foursunsets
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ABAlex's avatar
"blow out your bugles over the rich dead. theres none of these so lonely and poor of old, but dying has made us rarer gifts then gold"- seemed appropriate quote here.
Great work, very poignant.