“Only You Can Win The War! Save lives! Use correct romantic-shelter drill procedures!”

There are no flowers in those shelters and centres anymore, the same with chocolates, the veterans had too many flashbacks.

The scars of war are less obvious than past fights, but still noticeable: Nibble marks on ears and neck, glazed over eyes and vacant smile, checking texts far too often, hands still locked in holding patterns.

Worn in waists adorning the whistful women, wrinkles near the mouth that go deeper than a platonic laugh ever could.

One day three simple words were letter-dropped above the city of New Hiroshima…The entire city blissed out, and has never quite recovered.

The film crews rushed in, and screens lit up around the world to pictures of young men and women crying in the streets, old couples holding eachother tight and children looking up into the sky, smiling. The anarchy only lasted for days, the news crews left; but in the city it was never forgotten.

The city, too, still bears its scars. Scultpures line its boulevards, a photographs flutter from the highest towers like leaves in autumn. The flourish of art that emerged from the bombing spread like waves outwards, with streams of graffiti infecting the walls of nearby cities. Coincidentally, spray paint sales for shades of pink and red increased dramatically, with extra supplies being shipped in from overseas by mariners suddenly tearful about leaving their favorite port whores.

The tears added to the cocophany of pain that clogged the air, the sounds travelling across rivers and seas and continents into the heart of every town gracing the earth. People trembled, feeling in their hearts the unbearable sadness of everyone, everything, the unbearable sadness of existence. The greatest tragedy to sweep the history of mankind was the ability of humans to feel everything and nothing all at once, like diving headfirst into the sea.

Slowly, surely, the feeling of drowning kept them all alive; they tread sadness to survive. The scars have not yet healed over every single heart that touched the despair, the utter loss, of losing every one who has ever been loved.



Oak Park, Australia

  • Artist

Artist's Description

My boyfriend and I were buggering around on msn, I haven’t written like this in forever, I’ve never written like this before either, I love us.

P.S: That’s my writing in the bold, incase you’re wondering.
P.P.S: I’ve edited small parts of what I wrote, just because I’m pedantic that way.

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