I should be dead, so many times I have escaped fate. I know death is watching my foot steps, tread lightly around the ruins. so many breaths could have been my last... from hands on my throat to guns pointed at my head. The demons laugh as I toss and turn in my bed. They say the strongest soldiers are built from suffering. I won't take myself out on the account of mental pain. I have been given to many second chances. I cannot just let my name be buried 6 feet under and engraved upon a depressing grey stone. I have not faught to live another day for nothing, I will not be forgotten. I will make'em remember my legacy. PTSD won't leave...