Who Are We Now?

Fleeting Fire

We are all paper boats floating on a sea of dreams and aspirations. Sometimes we sail and sometimes we sink. That was how it was. But now, we're all floating on a sea of blood.

Sometimes I debate if the events that are etched into each desperate corner of my weak mind, the screams which have melted into the black canopy above us, really ever happened. Life is fleeting, so easily taken and so easily destroyed. So, as these mangled corpses accumulate in a pile of rotting flesh, their faces obscured by knives and their clothes soiled by the blood and vomit which came gargling from their failing lungs, we face an unavoidable question: Who's next?

The streets cry tears of anguish and loss. The flicking streetlights cast their flailing ghosts upon the pavement as we all stare, half awake, out of our windows and hope to God nobody gets killed that night.

Tonight was just the same until the doors started opening. As soon as the night had engulfed the sun and the clouds cloaked the moon, people began spilling out onto the streets like rain does from the sky. The candles they held illuminated the streets,creating an all encompassing ocean of light. It was as if the stars had fallen from the sky.

The streets were alive with colour. I could see Hallie and Chloe walking through the crowd together, hand in hand, both holding a candle. Everybody was smiling, but none so naively as the children, who took refuge in the hope that emerged from the dancing flames of the candles. Hope, however, cant bring them back from the dead. At the end of the day, they were still lying there, empty shells painted with blood and agony.

They wont become any less dead, no matter how many fucking flowers we throw at their graves.

The teachers will probably say, as unfortunate as it was, it was their destiny. Bullshit. This was a man. And if  hell truly does exist then I look forward to seeing him burning when I get there.