Would you stay?

Would you stay for a while as my words die before you along with the one saying them? Don't let me down like those before you. Would you save me now that you know I had no savior ? As I lay down the tears that will soon dry, Tears that are the only thing I can control among the little things life gave me. In a corner I cry out the past calling for misery to accompany me. As I run out of tears I know that I only have death now to be envied for. Stuck between two fates, a hope that will soon die leaving me alone to die, or I hope that will remain as I meet my demise. I could kill my hope or wait till it murders me, either way death is death no matter the cause.

I've known sadness since I have been a child, he's my friend that I could spot thousands of miles away, and he has an arm if left resting on a mountain, the mountain will crumble down before he could rest the other. Holding me up from my feet like a new-born and carrying me around like a falcon carrying it's prey above the clouds. If I were to escape I'd fall to my death, and If I were to remain, to my death I'd be remaining.

My only consolation from my murderers is a god that compliments no soul, and if death came to me sooner, then it will catch up to them later. For we are the sins of death and we are so many, and they are? well, they are the beauty of a martyr's death when asked upon, replying to their judge and attacking, but the countless bodies in my land are too many, preventing from ever reaching an argument. So would you stay as I tell you our stories?

Let me tell you the story of a little scared girl behind a wall screaming "Daddy, don't be afraid" as the guns start raining down death. And her father runs for her holding his hands ahead knowing that his fingers will never stop the bullets from reaching his little angel. Let me tell you a story about a beautiful girl whose beauty rivaled the goddess of before but
never stopped death from coming too soon, after all, since when can a soft raven haired smile of a 4 years old prevent bullets?

Source

It's every night I see our death rise in numbers on the news, and every morning I hear the people scream the cries as it numbs them into a humiliating silence. Let me tell you how I know that death won't take anyone else as a prey, exacting revenge on us for a crime we never committed. Let me tell you how tired I am of carrying a wooden coffin on my shoulder every fortnight, and for 15 years I watched those coffins fade into dirt.

I see the bodies reaching the shore by a sad violet river that used to be blue. The mothers cry for a while by them and soon after they carry them in coffins to the place they finally rest in under a tombstone that only knows them by name. And now that my neighbors left, who's left that knows my story? I see that life won’t take us as allies, and we can’t stand it as an enemy to rival. So is there a generation that will become or once was, a generation that would trade their place? And I would happily trade them mine.