I’m fearing, mom. Keep me inside. I’m not used to. Keep me again. Life is bad, mom. Everything unlikable, everything cold. Everything, frozen. Against to me everything, an enemy for me. I’m fearing. Keep me inside.

         I’m not feeling anything. Excitement, scariness, cold, hot, even love. I’m not living, I am not. I can’t think anything. My house, my bed, my job, my friends and myself. I’m dead, I’m not living.

         I’m hungry. I’m not eating anything here. I can’t. An empty plate they are giving and a spoon. Made of lead.

         I’m thirsty. Blood they are giving, blood. "Drink this," they are ordering. I can’t. When I drink, I’m vomiting.

         I’m sleepless. Nights are sin. Nightmares are waking me up every morning. Because of this, I can’t sleep. I’m tired.

         I can’t remember. Was the ocean blue, trees were green? What did I like most and how old was my brother?

         I can’t stand any more. I lost my power.

         Everything is nothing. People around me, a space inside. Here is empty. There is noone close. I’m alone. I am feeling cold.

         If I’m shot here, I have nobody lifting. If I cry lots of drops, I have nobody asking. If I am sick, I have nobody caring. If I’m yes today no tomorrow, there is nobody wondering.

         They called for military. "Come to fight," they said. A weapon they gave. "Kill," they ordered. Why? What am I killing for? For what am I being a murderer? I only want to know this, but I don’t. I’m sobbing, I am crying. For whom am I fighting? For whom? For what?

        Do I want fighting? Why am I fighting because other people wanted? I want to see them here. But I can’t. I’m angry. I’m thinking, again and again. I can’t find.

       I’m fearing. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be shot for no reason. I don’t want to be shot with any reason. I’m afraid of dying in this hellhole of battlefield. Is my soul worthless? Am I not as worthy as a bullet that I’m dying with a bullet. Why aren’t bullets dying instead of us? Why?

       They are ordering me. "Lie," they are saying, "Stand," they are yelling. They are eating my brain, eating my brain. They aren’t asking my choice. "Die," they are ordering, for their lives. I don’t want to die. I won’t.

       Houses magnified, mom. Shoes magnified, so are roads. Fields magnified, cars magnified and planes magnified. But I got smaller. I got smaller. I am small. I’m little.

        I don’t know, just don’t. What to do, what to feel. I’m fearing. I’m freezing. I’m failing. I’m losing, losing. I’m crying in the dark and thinking, I’m losing. I’m melting. I am dying.

        I love you mom. But I’m fearing.

        Keep me inside. Keep me. Love me. Never let me die. , I love you. I love you more. But I’m fearing. I will always fear.

        Keep me, mom. Keep me. I love you...

Abdullah Ozkececi