The Truth

He yelled and
  yelled

Until his voice was
           hoarse, his legs

Unsteady, his mind
  empty

And his eyes,wet
  and full

Of the Truth

About Life

Once, Once there ‘Was’
There still is, just not as there was
Not like back then
Then
Then, the time of no worries
The time of simple pleasure
The time of make believe
And no digital observation
Now, however, it is different.
Now it is full of media
Media the size of corpses
Full of farce depictions of life
By 12-year-olds in all black
With little or no knowledge of life at all
Looking in hindsight,
We see that none of our depictions mattered
They were just clouded opinions
Made by social constructs

One may think that I wish
To be back in the ‘Was’
They would be wrong
I make do
I keep living in the now
To forge an opinion of my own
To meet people and foster their trust
And to not think too much
About the ‘Then’
So one day, when my body gets tired and old
I can rest knowing I have made friends
And I have learned something
About life

Niff Snave

In All Hindsight ...

Here I am, in all the chaos. Under the rubble of the crushed house, and through all the screaming, two things stood out: one, the fine air. Crisp, yet subtle, with a slight tinge that cut right through you. The good kind. Surprisingly, I could still feel the air through all the dust and pieces of concrete. And the second thing: her.

To me, she had always been my hope of the apocalypse. The beam of light in a cloud of darkness, and now, she was gone. I already had no reason to live, but this, this pushed me off the edge. Not to die, no, but to fight.

But in all Hindsight, I should have jumped in front of the bullet. The fact that I didn't jump will scar me forever.