Last Notes

The ink drops and swells on my page, while at the same time boasted with my tears it is becoming. My hand shakes in fear, depression and anguish. I feel like there is no cure, and that there will never be one. Men shouting, children limping and falling and women mourning with pain, it won't stop nor in anyway cease. Everything I see visible that should not be visible paints a picture in my head, imprinting a cold, harsh and brutal reality in my memory that will never be able to be removed. I keep writing, persevering, trying to translate messages from my brain to my hand to stop shaking. But the function does not work, and soon enough I will cease to work. I keep writing, pouring my heart out through my thoughts, and eventually through the ink that is now marking my page. That individual ink releasing capsule would determine what the rest of my life and reputation would go through. But then again, I had no reputation to uphold, and my life would be cut short soon enough. The ground was grazing the bottom of my body, the atmosphere was forcing the dust from various nations into my eyes. The notes I had usually hand written, and information contained would always be for specific people. I had always sent them off in hope waiting for a reply. Only this time I knew I wouldn't be conscious enough to hope and wait. I did not know who I was writing to but whoever received or discovered this would have to be compassionate, or at least someone who cares for the lives and deaths of poor, oppressed children. I was curled up in the corner of a shattered and lifeless remaining building. I was clothed with sack cloth, tears painting my face with swift motion; my eyes were becoming ever so blurry. The rage of war was continuing before my very eyes, but I could not do anything about it. The ink now covered the page with words that were meaningful and vital, only to me though. Nobody understands anybody here. Ending your life was just as easy as entering it, only you decide when your time is up. I realized that this was now my time. I folded the note and tucked it into my garments. My will would rest a place on that piece of paper. I readied myself to enter an easy target zone... But there was no need. Something hit my chest and liquid poured out of me. I realized that all my last hopes would be contained in my will, contained in the folded piece of paper, my last note

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