A Prose With No Direction

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What if I don't wake up tomorrow?

Pitter-patter.

What if I wake up to find the darkness once more?

Pitter-patter.

What if I might never see daylight again?

Pitter-patter.

What terrifies me is knowing the unknown. What horrifies me is the uncertainty of the future. What keeps me up at night, eyes strained open in the dark, is the fear of waking up to death.

I hear voices—VOICES—trembling when they speak, shaking when they whisper, muttering when they mumble. I hear voices. Voices saying—no, warning us of an uncertain future. A future depended on men, creatures that know no sense of peace, understanding, nor communication.

Just pride.

All those men care about are pride, arrogance, and ignorance.

These voices, their voices, speak of a future with flames—all orange, yellow, and red—and smoke, all laced with poison to kill the innocent—the innocence of our children—and lastly the devil, Satan, rising from his pits to conquer what finally belongs to him: humanity.

The voices speak of a war.

War, war, war, war! All these people ever care about is war! War about this, war about that. War sprouting from the very seeds of pride, arrogance, and ignorance! What do these creatures do but start wars? What purpose do they have but start trouble, despair, and self-destruction.

What purpose do they have?

What purpose do they have?

What purpose do they have!

What purpose do I have...

No!

These creatures have no purpose but death. Yes! Humanity is like an illness that spreads through touch, through air, through food. Once you catch it, there is no hope for a cure...

Since there's no goddamn cure!

.

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.

.

.

I-I should probably calm down...

"Raindrops and roses and mittens on kittens..." I whisper, curling into a ball.

I'm scared.

"Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens."

Help me.

"Brown paper packages tied up with strings."

Save me!

"These are a few of my favorite things!"

Save me from this fear of mine.