Over the border, the clear cutting lines, where sweet dreams turned sour by incessant sirens,
their clammy fingers dragging you from a fitful sleep. Their voices are like nails on a
chalkboard, slashing through your mind. Tearing through your thoughts as if they were
mere paper to be ripped up and discarded. Forgotten.
You are never truly safe over the border, the barrier built by society, knowing that at any
moment they could drag you back. Back to the voices that you tried to leave behind in the
first place. Back to the fear , back to the restless nights and the ripped up thoughts. To a
land once peaceful, before they seeked vengeance before they cleaved through communities
sowing seeds of terror. Sparing nothing and no one.
They are the reason for the restless nights, for the ripped up thoughts. They are a glass wall
that people sit behind and gawk at the war, at the terror and destruction, at the fear over the
border that their precious borders caused in the first place. They whisper behind their
hands about the horrors happening whilst they themselves are tucked up in their warm
homes, sheltered, lucky that it is not them at the mercy of the voices. happy that they are on
the side of peace and wealth and safety. That they will not have to experience the terrors
that they whisper about.
In some ways it’s an elaborate game played by nature, and only she knows who wins and
who loses, she decides who suffers and who doesn’t. But is it fair? No, definitely not.
fairness is not one of nature’s strong points. You know that once you’ve been over the
border