Broken

Four Leaf Clover

I do not believe in hate. Yet, my whole life revolves around hate. War has broken out everywhere. We, the ones who are left, barely made it out of the fifth world war. Humanity has been stripped from the earth. Savages, which once were human, over take this broken world. A world where life is depleting.

The water is a scarce resource. In this world, water becomes a saint when needed, but if you have too much, that saint, will quickly turn on you, reaping you of your last breath. Food is earned through murder. Sometimes keeping the bodies for food. Cannibalism is just another survival technique. In this world, all there is, is the raw form of human nature. The form, in which society hid before the last war.

Controlled by anarchy, everyone follows their own thoughts and free will. There was once was some sense of justice to protect those around you, but one day they appeared as just food. One can never fall asleep without the worry that others will find you, only to become their next meal.

I came into this world, just as it was breaking. The fourth world war had ended. Two years later, on June 29th, three days after my second birthday, the fifth began. At age five, my father left to join the war effort. At age six, he stopped writing letters. Two days before my tenth birthday my mom told me she would return. The look she gave me should have warned me. She told me that day, "My lucky Clover, do not trust anyone. Everyone will lie, if it means survival." She handed me a four leaf clover necklace of a precious metal that is worthless in this world. When I was 15, the war ended on November 17th.

I lost count of the days after a year, it has been 3 to 4 years since then. My mother still has not appeared in front of me since the day she abandoned me. I am grateful to her, she could have easily killed and devoured me. As many have done with the young. They are considered easy targets.

No cares for the survival of humanity. Everyone learns to only care for themselves because humanity has been left to the hungry lions. Communicating is hard, all people can do is speak shards of a glass, once called English. Many only know how to fight and dwell in their own thoughts.

I stand on the cliff of insanity. Every day I get closer to the edge, maybe, I have already fallen off. Some days are so murky, I am unable to understand the words that clash in my mind. I read to clear my mind, but in this last well covered building, there are so many books arranged on shelves, though most of them are useless. These breaking walls became my home.