FlashFriday – 2nd Runner up

TITLE: Cockroaches

History is not remembering who you are:

I wake to the radio. It tells me the cockroaches should be crushed to death. I recite the commandments.
Cockroaches work for themselves.
Cockroaches own everything.
To marry a cockroach is to be a traitor of the worst species.
I am expected to change the situation.
I repeat them by heart, slowly transforming bitter sentiments into a furious need to destroy.
Until I no longer know who I am.

History is hacked limbs:

Imagine loving your family
You have no family.
Imagine outraged bodies, twisted and mutilated.
Imagine torsos.
Imagine rape.
Imagine your father slain in mid-stride.
Imagine his bleached skull.
Imagine a church covered in blood.
Imagine what pity must feel like.
You have no family.

History is indifferent:

I wake to the radio.
If I am lucky I will have dreamt of the sea.
The past is still here. Every morning I pause a moment to see if it will devour me.
I live in a room without a key.
Every morning my neighbours will taunt each other with their suffering.
I will remain silent.
I know the sun is a lie
Mountains do not shake at the sound of tiny feet.
And nothing will grow from the salt tears I cry.

FlashFriday – 2nd Runner up

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