Pain laces through my veins,

as I watch the blood seep from my leg.

My mind rewinds what happened 

playing it again and again, intoxicating my mind.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Ten years of service to now be called a criminal.

But I wanted this. I wanted out.

  Expendable. Used. A sacrifice. We were Putin’s war machines.

  A tool to be used and discarded when it was convenient. 

  Only getting to leave wounded or dead.

Walking the streets of havoc and chaos,

standing on the fine line of a criminal or hero. 

I guess it depends on who you ask.

  Mastering the art of trickery and lying to survive.

  Knowing my actions were wrong.

  But if I don’t comply… I will die.

That was in the fine print.

But, no one read the fine print.
They made sure of that.

Gravel travels into my boot, 

the pain miniscule to the gaping wound in my leg.

My boots were worn from the days of trekking, limping to Kazakhstan.

I look over my shoulder to my comrades.

But, only the ghosts of them remained.

Expendable. Used. A sacrifice.

That’s all we were, and all we’ll ever be.

Broken limbs, wills, and systems follow us around.

To most, we’re the villains. 

Towering, reckless, bloodthirsty.

If only they knew how desperate we are to escape. To be free.

My desperation ran wild, 

my first lieutenant protested over my request.

But, we all wanted out. Needed it.

However, you need to be willing to take your freedom back.

At whatever cost.

My first lieutenant raises his rifle.

His hands shook slightly.

I backed up far enough for him to get a good shot. 

Pulling the trigger I doubled over. 

Pain flooding into my body, stunning me onto the ground. 

Pain laces through my veins,

as I watch the blood seep from my leg.

But I wanted this. I wanted out. 

And so I limped my way towards freedom.

But the soldier I was in Ukraine will die there. 

He along with the other souls will find a final resting place. 

Not a tool, not a criminal, not a killer.

Not Putin’s war machine.