one day
one day you're seven and playing with your siblings in your backyard. one day they tell you not to run so fast in the snow, afraid that something might make you trip over under the white layer. but you're just a seven year old kid, so you run.
one day you're eleven and your father taught you how to fish. one day it's your first time having your own fishing rod and sitting side to side above the frozen lake with the man that always told you to be strong. you're just an eleven year old kid, you nodded.
one day you're fourteen and it's all gone.
one day you're twenty two and never be the same. one day you walk to the very same backyard with a cold gaze and vivid memories. one day you went to the very same lake you used to go to fish, only this time the white frozen ground turns into red. the smell of blood is no longer unfamiliar.
maybe one day you'll realize what was taken from you, what was left behind the dark, scary place.