Reigniting the Passion
World Cleansing
'The world did not end in a bang, or a whisper, but rather, one scream at a time.'
The world did not end in a bang, or a whisper, but rather, one scream at a time.
A pathetic whimper, a gurgled scream, a plea cut short as the life was drained from their weak, pitiful bodies.
The whole thing was their fault, these ugly creatures.
Acting as though the world belongs to them, that everything belongs to them.
We put up with it for generations, for countless lifetimes of mistakes and lessons learned.
The murders of the innocent, the crime, the racism, their damn audacity to walk through life as if it was all okay.
Our aggression grew, flourished into a hatred so deep for these humans that we finally snapped. We finally agreed to rid this world of the vile things, take back this planet that we once peacefully inhabited, but what we didn't notice, what we were too blind with rage to see, was that we had become like the very thing we could not stand.
We mercilessly killed, men, women, even the children were sacrificed due to our wrath.
Their feeble attempt of a fight earning them nothing more than pain, bloodying the streets with their ichor so fiercely you'd swear it was raining.
The cries, the whimpers, perishing with their once warm, bright, useless lives.
While others, others did not fight, did not scream for mercy, did not beg for their lives, they accepted it, they waited happily, some plunging themselves on our weapons, some simply giving a sigh of relief, a whispered thanks, a smile of gratitude.
Those quiet understanding nods somehow screaming louder than any anguished prolonged torture, louder than the sirens of emergency vehicles attempting to stop the slaughter, louder than the sound of the angry voices of my brethren echoing in my head.
Who knew the screams of despair could be drowned out by the simple smile of a battered soul.
The world did not end in a bang, or a whisper, but rather, one scream at a time.
A pathetic whimper, a gurgled scream, a plea cut short as the life was drained from their weak, pitiful bodies.
The whole thing was their fault, these ugly creatures.
Acting as though the world belongs to them, that everything belongs to them.
We put up with it for generations, for countless lifetimes of mistakes and lessons learned.
The murders of the innocent, the crime, the racism, their damn audacity to walk through life as if it was all okay.
Our aggression grew, flourished into a hatred so deep for these humans that we finally snapped. We finally agreed to rid this world of the vile things, take back this planet that we once peacefully inhabited, but what we didn't notice, what we were too blind with rage to see, was that we had become like the very thing we could not stand.
We mercilessly killed, men, women, even the children were sacrificed due to our wrath.
Their feeble attempt of a fight earning them nothing more than pain, bloodying the streets with their ichor so fiercely you'd swear it was raining.
The cries, the whimpers, perishing with their once warm, bright, useless lives.
While others, others did not fight, did not scream for mercy, did not beg for their lives, they accepted it, they waited happily, some plunging themselves on our weapons, some simply giving a sigh of relief, a whispered thanks, a smile of gratitude.
Those quiet understanding nods somehow screaming louder than any anguished prolonged torture, louder than the sirens of emergency vehicles attempting to stop the slaughter, louder than the sound of the angry voices of my brethren echoing in my head.
Who knew the screams of despair could be drowned out by the simple smile of a battered soul.