You brought me here when you were ready to leave.

You gave me life, and taught me to breathe.

You showed me kindness I thought didn’t exist.

You smiled so sweet, and told me to live.

Omma, dear, it’s difficult to stay.

The crashing and burning and shouts and cries.

They hurt so much, so hard, so bad.

I used to think someday you’ll come to take me from this mess.

I used to believe in a better tomorrow.

I used to wait and pray and hope.

Not anymore.

I don’t understand.

Their language.

Their violence.

Their smirks.

Our fear.

They don’t make sense at all.

I used to think we were all equal.

I used to believe they never meant it.

I used to wait for them to weep and apologize.

Not anymore.

It scares me.

Their guns.

Their fires.

Their swords.

Our bloody battered bodies.

They’re frightening.

I used to think they didn’t want this.

I used to believe they would pity us.

I used to wait for the day they would stop.

Not anymore.

It’s horrible.

Their beating.

Their .

Their kill-alls.

Our lives.

They’re beyond disgusting.

Omma, dear, please forgive me.

This life you gave I’d rather not have.

Because it’s too much, and I’m not strong enough.

Their smiles are queer.

Their faces are blurred.

Omma, dear,

The world is ugly here.

Challenge #1 | 06/03/2013 | 07/03/2013 – 08/03/2013