A sudden piece triggered by a sudden change of events.
Read it, feel it.

Feedback genuinely welcome.

My name, I know not what they call me, or why they call me so. They say they know better but oh, what do they know! Do they know the fears they’ve instilled in me? Do they know the troubles that were born with me? The tremors and the quakes, do they know how they feel? The deafening silence, does it tickle their eardrums? The pictures in motion on repeat, do they see? Do they know the taste of the blood and the dust or the damp smell of rot, do they know?

They know what they know. Their own fears and pain. I know not what they know. Am I any different?