I ran frail fingers across dry soil, searching for something edible.

How odd it was that on a tiperope with death, I felt so painfully alive.

The ravenous hunger inside me consumed every part of my being. But I didn’t just starve for food.

I starved for a home. A life that didn’t revolve around survival. A family. Perhaps even friends.

I starved for a sense of normalcy that I would never have.

To think that a human being was the reason I was starving right now. That a human being started this war. Started this death trap of a society.

I sighed, giving in to the ferocity of starvation clawing at my insides.

Rough, wild features covered my body. How peculiar to think that I didn’t used to look like this.

I didn’t used to have dry, cracked lips, sunken cheeks, skin on bones, wild eyes, and emotionless expressions.

I used to look normal.

But this is what the world does. It brings pure, beautiful humans into the world, just to take everything from them and watch them die.

Thats just in the nature of people. To be alive is to die. To be human is to be a monster.