Dear Diary

I learned to shoot today. Not out of a great yearning for knowledge, but out of necessity. I can reload in 26.9 seconds. My sister can do it in 28. I try not to think too much about what that could mean for her...  My family freeze dries all of the food we have that is not stored in a can. Will we ever taste fresh fruit again? We'll tell our grandchildren tales of apple juice and sweet, dripping mangoes. They will laugh and call it a legend, simply a tall tale. Our neighbor is infected. She can no longer form words, just hisses. Banging all day long against the walls of her house where we decided we had to lock her in. No one had the grit to shoot her, she was so nice. But tonight, after that moaning and snarling all day, someone just might lose it...  I would like to put my thoughts into poetry form before this terrible catastrophe consumes my writings. Maybe it already has.

I hope we live

For generations ,to give

A world worth saving

A golden road we're paving

Or will we leave blood and gore?

A blackened dead earth, no more.