Very few places are as desperate and as graphic as the trenches. These trenches have soldiers; soldiers that regardless of inevitable danger remain in that trench until the battle and their position in the field dictates that they can move forward.

Conditions within these trenches remain as bleak as the soldiers hopes of ever getting out. His comrades they fall left and right fighting everyone’s fight but their own. His ears are penetrated by the piercing sound of automatic ammunition that soothes him as he sleeps. His resources run dry, because living in the trenches was never meant to become his norm. Now this norm, his norm, his survival, his every chance out, is to scrape and claw at the dirt knowing that whatever he did get it would be priceless because he got it out of the mud.

The battle has taken friends, some deserving, some not. He wishes he had time to mourn but the visions of war make him desensitized to the empathies life bring.

He fears, he cries, he says enough, he stands. Vulnerable to opposition he leaves his knees to fight. He fights his obstacles and he challenges himself. The tribulations are steep but his fear is stronger. His fear of living to die is only surpassed by his fear of not dying to live.

As he stands he realizes that few have made it; only he has made it. Nevertheless turning back is never an option. He moves forward with his nightmares because its all that he knows. Saying one day he’ll be back because the trench is his home.

Welcome To The Trenches, Welcome To Detroit.