Once There Was A War

The Little Black Face

She looked so innocent, so special. So precious. But all there was left, was a little black face. I could see the terror in her, even though there were no facial features, in fact, the little face looked more like a football then it did a face. I fell to the ground. Crying. She was dead, unable to make it to the shelters. Such an innocent thing. Destroyed. That's what they do. They take something you love. Something so precious. They take the last sweet thing you have and rip it up. There would be no joy, no happiness. It would all be gone. All because of one word. Hate. No one could find an ounce of love in their hearts. They have to make you suffer. Take the way they suffered, multiply it by millions, then make you suffer that. They would come out if nowhere, with no notice. The only thing that would give you an ounce of hope were thos three words. Everything is okay.
In some ways those words lied. They would say everything's okay. But it's really not. Sure the planes were gone, but what was waiting on the surface was truly terrifying, something so scarring, that no one should see. Something that no one should do.
But hatred full this world now, and nothing would survive, that was sure. Nothing would be okay. And it never will be. It wouldn't feel right if it did. And there would never be forgiveness. No forgiveness for what they had done. Forgiveness for what we have done. No forgiveness for anything. This world was destroyed. I looked down once again at the little black face. I put my head about an inch away from he head and whispered "I'm sorry"