Invasion of the Damned

A mother is quickly stripped of her child.

The invasion was so perfectly timed, one would think that it was planned. Shocked cries flew from our mouths as we jumped out of our skin. They swept in, fear engulfing us both. I look at you,  so sweet, so innocent. So young, so tender and oh so lovable and I pull you close to me and try to calm those big scared eyes. I whisper to you frantically, quickly, that it's going to be okay. That you would be okay. That I would be okay. You tell me that your scared and I don't even have the time to console you  as they pry you from my arms. Your shrill screech rips through me and only me, shattering my swelled heart into a million pieces. The soldiers of the System try and silence you as they refreeze their hearts to be colder than Antarctica in the winter.  I cry out for you, oh God did I cry out to you, pleading, begging Them to let me hold you. That's all I want. All I need. They try to calm me down, but how do you calm one down when their loved one has been ripped from your arms-- and you're the one who did the ripping. How? How?

You're waiting for me, for me to swoop in and save you. And all I can do is cry with you, and try to stay as strong as you envision me to be. I know that you want me to fight for you, for our freedom. But fighting will keep me from you longer, and God knows that I don't want that. Our kodak moment filled with small giggles, copious amounts of questions, and comfortable, impenetrable silence was ruined in the blink of an eye. And I know, I know that this is my fault. And I'm so sorry that my actions have separated you and I. But I promise. I promise, baby, that until my last breath, I will not rest until I see you again.