Colours and Doubt

by Prongs II

How was it to be in the middle of the battle? What traces did it leave on the people fighting? A poem about the Battle of Hogwarts.

Colours and Doubt

Colours. Faces. Eyes that linger.

Darkness isn't part of my nightmares.

I see the lights as I hear the screams.

Never silence.

Never slow motion.

Everything around me is moving so fast.

People I've never known by name running around me.

So many I want to help. So many I want to save.

I find it frustratingly hard to move.

Before it started it sounded like a good idea.

Now as I see my friends die before my very eyes I'm not so sure.

What am I doing here?

I'll see the Thestrals now.

If I get the chance.

Colourful lights go all around me.

Faces make sickening grimaces.

Trying to dodge those harming colours.

Especially the green.

Curses, jinxes and hexes. Something I use too.

But I am not happy when I make people fall.

For I know they will never move again.

The sound is too much for my ears.

Screams of horror, screams of pain.

I want not to see. Not to hear.

But should I close my eyes and put my hands over my ears, I would join them not moving soon enough.

At times, as I run there, I doubt the cause.

What are we really fighting for?

Will there be something left when this is all done?

Or will I stand alone by the corpses, when it no longer matter if they once were enemy or friend.

Bathing in sweat I wake.

My nightmares are still full of colours.