Author: TaltushMeiMei PM
This epic poem, a poem about history, life, and war, is dedicated to those who have died in these events, for bringing so much to light.Rated: Fiction T - English - Chapters: 20 - Words: 3,077 - Reviews: 17 - Favs: 1 - Updated: 06-11-06 - Published: 04-29-06 - id: 2164197
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I am sitting here, all huddled and terrified. What would someone think if they saw me here? If only someone saw me here. I don't understand how this could have happened. Wasn't everything under control? I thought everything was good. I thought people understood. Apparently not.
I just don't really get how we let ourselves do this again. We've tried this stupid thing before; every time, it has ended in death, destruction, pain, suffering, and afterwards, so much later, the terrifying realization of what we have just done, and the feeling of guilt sweeping over us. Dating as far back as Greece, Rome, and Carthage, we've tried this. And dating just as far back, we've failed. "War is not the answer" "Peace" How is it we've overlooked all of these things, and plunged right in, again? How stupid and pigheaded are we that we never think before we act? Power must be something amazing if everyone wants it so badly, and is willing to sacrifice millions of lives for it. Power is probably like a drug, though; you get a bit, you need more. I just want out now.
No, never. I want out of this world, but not this life. I mean, look how screwed up everything is. This stupid situation. Who isn't involved? Everyone is ready, everyone is eager to show everyone else that they're much better than them, everyone is craving everyone else' land, place, position, power.
I don't see why anyone would ever stick themselves here in this position. I mean, we've been here before, people. We've been in these big, huge world-wide wars, and in case nobody's noticed, but they've never gone well. Why are we doing this to ourselves again?
Now I really want someone to find this, read it, and maybe get a clue. Now I really want someone to grow up, and have the guts to say, IT'S NOT WORTH IT because it's not. Now I hope that someday they will find my body, and this little scrap of paper will still be sitting beside me, and I hope that they will realize how stupid they've been.
Maybe, maybe, MAYBE things can change. Maybe someday, someone will be able to declare WAR obsolete. Maybe someday, the single people in charge will take a step back, and realize that the power they crave so badly comes with a price, a price that no one should ever have to pay.
Maybe, maybe, MAYBE this little paper will help them. And this, being the last thing I will ever do in this life of mine, maybe it will have an impact. Maybe my untimely, too early death will teach them something.
Maybe my last words will be the words to save the world. Who
"Stanza" is dedicated to every death caused by conflict and war. "Stanza" is dedicated to every pain that anyone has ever felt on account of war.
"Stanza" is also dedicated to my history teacher, for teaching so much, and showing a place of so much knowledge and wisdom in regards to the world.