Wherever I hide tonight

I am writing this as bullets whizz over our heads,

currently situated underneath the rubbles that appear to be beds.

No, it has not ended.

And no, I don't think it will ever do.

Every day I reach out into hope, only to discover remnants of the dead.

And I pray to God that the ones I discover won't be you.

Are you fine? Are you hurt? Are you okay?

I am not even sure if you are even receiving these letters of mine.

Even worse, 6 feet under dirt.

Woe is me, as the only thing I can do is pray.

No more negative thoughts, not even one!

You are alive, death mustn't have won.

The skies are now silent, but I still hear footsteps around the rubbles.

Along with that, the dripping water from the cut-off pipes creating bubbles.

A rat with its tails cut off, squeaking in pain, lost and afraid.

And myself, underneath the bed, holding my breath as this letter is being made.

Night has approached me but the footsteps can still be heard.

I do not know much longer I can last any longer, the dust clogs my nose, travelling up my nose, my blood and dust blended and stirred.

It pangs and stings, and I'm struggling to keep my noise to myself.

Will you be alive to read it for me?

Will you be alive to send a reply?

You must be alive, you must be.

But if you are, why aren't you saying my doubt are lies?

Remember when we were younger?

When you and I were carefree as ever,

sitting on the grass of the local park,

wondering why the day was so short, hoping it would be longer?

Remember when I fell on my head and you asked me if I was alright?

I told you I was fine, but that was a lie, for I couldn't think right.

All I could see was your face, bleached out in the twilight.

But now, sadness runs through my mind, as the only thing I see instead is the darkness of night.

Tonight, as I hide underneath the rubble

As the pencil and paper within my hands fumble,

I wait for the world around me to crumble,

while wanting you back despite all the trouble.

Wherever I may hide tonight,

I hope this letter reaches you by the breaking dawn, the morning light.

The letter in my hand will be sent to you,

within all the madness, within all the plight.

And I will be here waiting, as I hope that I will be able to receive a reply from you too.