She gazed up with eyes full of curious, infantile innocence. She lay there swaddled in soft, white cloth and for a moment, it seemed as though she would make it. But then the cloths turned black, her eyelids drooped, and with a final whispered breath, she turned perfectly still.

Know thyself,

That face in the mirror,

A reflection of a familiar stranger.

Who is this girl,

This foreign image,

With eyes of veiled mystery.

What is she thinking,

This strange figure,

With a sly and distant smile.

When did she come,

This unknown being,

With a complexion weathered by time.

Where did she go,

That simple spirit,

With a plain and blameless mind.

Why did she flee,

That virtuous soul,

With a pure and innocent heart.

How did she leave,

That untainted force,

With a sudden and hushed farewell.

Know thyself,

That face in the mirror,

A faint blur of the past.

The heat of the fire singes my clothes.

The showers of bullets cripple my arm.

The blasts of the tanks rattle my bones.

The roars of the planes deafen my ears.

The cries of the widowed tear my soul.

The wails of the orphaned split my heart.

But the silence is what kills me.

Fear is a monster we create.

Birthed by our minds.

Cultivated by our insecurities.

Maintained by our acceptance of it.

Thriving by hiding and waiting

For the perfect moment to reappear.

Thirty-one words, to be exact.