The words ‘fallen’, ‘battle’, ‘innocent’, ‘martyr’, ‘fate’ ‘you’, ‘me’ all tumbled over one another. I had my own words, blades packed in the mouth, capable of cutting my tongue wide open. I feared speaking them and feared not speaking them, and I knew that, like all things of consequence, they could not be postponed or stored away for later use. If I missed my opportunity now, I thought, I would have to carry those words unspoken forever. Sounds in the dark.
