The war has begun

I wrote this after looking at a prompt that said when you talk about war you use the tiniest details to inflict the most pain upon the reader.

The boy lying in the street writhing in pain brought on by the boils building beneath his skin sickened me to no end yet this was the most peace I’d had since the beginning of the week. The moment I saw the first body drop in agonizing pain, I knew the war had begun. Throwing toxins in the air was a trademark of our enemy, that scarred our people, and a stigmatized the very air we struggled so hard to breathe in. My sister went out for water that day. I ran outside when I heard the screams but all I could do was watch as my best friend died. All I could do was watch her skin ooze from her bones and drip to the earth. All I could do was listen to her screams and her pleas while she fell to the ground. All I could do was feel the pain in her voice strike me in the chest and tear me apart with every sound. All I could do was let the overwhelming grief feeding my soul drag me to hell and rip me apart while my sister lie there dying. I was useless, and I still am. I can not cry anymore, it would be wasteful. As long as the Risions keep filling the sky with noxious air, I will keep living in a never ending pit of despair. At night I lie down with grief, and during the day my numbness keeps me company. Whether dawn or dusk, I don’t feel much, even as the weeks drag on, the travesty that is my life becomes humdrum and commonplace. The commonplaces of life occupy your soul and leave nothing in the individual to fight the errors of the ordinary.

Author's Note

I’m sure the grammar isn’t perfect but that’s not my main concern