They're wrong.

Everything they think is wrong.
They think it's this place.
They think it's this power.
They think it's this war.
I wish it were that simple.

I wish they weren't wrong.
They think it's the shock.
They think it's the scout.
They haven't got a clue.

Because I'm fine.

Physically, not a scratch.
No lingering traces
Of electrocution
And dismemberment.
No phantom pains and agony.
No scout.

Scout went bye-bye.

I went bye-bye.
But I'm still here.

It's okay.
I don't get it either.
Maybe that's why
I'm in shock.

I know I'm in shock.
I know that.
I know it
I do.
And I know that it's not good.
But I don't feel like--
I don't want to--
Talk about it.

Because they can't relate.
Because they can't know.
What it's like
To see yourself
Die.
To see your flesh
Searing in front of you.
To see the frightened, lost look
In your own eyes.
As the light goes out.
As the mirror shatters.

Leaving you alone.
Alone once more,
Always alone.
With the mirror image
Seared into your memory.

But it's not a mirror.

If only it was a mirror.
And you weren't watching
Watching yourself
Die.

That's why I'm in shock.
That's why I'm not talking.
That's why they haven't got a clue.
I saw myself die.

And now,
I have nothing to say.
Besides,
After all,
Everyone says,
The dead are supposed to stay
Silent.