STRONG

It's hell.
Screaming and yelling echoes through the blackened skies and down the ashen, fragmented streets.
Chaos rules this broken place.
Our new ugly king.
Nobody knew, nobody woke up this morning with the intentions of having their sanity stolen. Nobody.
That's why it's so hopeless.
Blank eyes stare, just stare, and maybe, maybe try to function and maybe wonder how something so cruel could ever happen to them.
But that's all, that's all anybody's ever done.
But that's why there's still hope, somebody is wondering where it is. Somebody is wiping dust from their dry eyes and is finally able to see.
Able to let the light sting, sting every part of their existence and carry on. They are the special ones, they call themselves strong.

And I am proudly one of them.