FicWad

(revised)
FRANK POV


My eyes fall and my gaze is shamefully cast on the scars that adorn my chest and upper arms, the war medals of a life I didn’t want, but lived anyway. I ran my fingers across the jagged surfaces, feeling old ones, healing ones, and the brand new ones I decided I had earnt. These scars a reminder of every disappointment, every failure, and every time I had managed to ruin something.

I felt my head spin and grow light, my eyes failing, finally sweet release. I managed a smile before welcoming the darkness that began to enshroud me within it. This was how I found my peace. Not by talking to people who I had deluded myself into thinking 'cared', No. People don’t 'care' they merely acknowledge your pain and thrive off it, like a food source. It draws them in like vultures on their way to a fresh feed, every new sorrow a new chance for them to pick at what little remains of you. The bastards were good at hiding their fiendish intentions though, disguising behind a facade of fake smiles and condolences, but the worst evil they did, they did with words. The cleverly deceiving words that gave you hope, only to bring you hurtling down into a pit of your own misery, as they stand by and laugh, watching you drown, watching you die. That’s what they really want. By killing you, they somehow manage to appease themselves, as if the murder of you is some great sacrifice to an unseen god.

The greatest lie humanity feeds its helpless victims is love. The premise that they 'care' so much they want to spend their lives with you always. They never mean it, it’s just another mechanism they use to watch you suffocate while they slowly draw the life out of you. Always looking for new ways to drown you in a tidal wave of pain, the unrelenting torturers devise new methods to increase the amount of hurt they so willingly give out like gifts, each one some act of 'love'. They toy with your emotions as if it's a game, a sport of sorts, with legions of others flocking so they might get another fix of destroying a life. Like addicts, they crave a new toy, some poor wreck to devour and crush before moving onto the next available prey they seek, sparing no lasting thought to the sheer amounts of sorrow they so happily give to you, as if giving you some present.

Humanity is a plague, a disease, a virus that takes any form it can to reach its goal, complete and utter destruction. The soul less creatures spare not even themselves from each other. The stronger one seeing an opportunity to eradicate a weaker one and further establish itself as a king of sorts, reigning over a wasteland devoid of anything bar pain. Finally, when the last one stands tall waving the tyrannical banner it sought to place within the heart of everything, then will it realise how sweet revenge and justice are. When it has none left to degrade and is forced to turn on itself, then true peace will be found, when no human lives..

As I run my trembling hands along my scars, I shed but one silent tear, for the children who are being born into a horrible future.

R&R Please? I know it's kind of scary, but being used will do that to you...
Thanks guys! - Jero