Sometimes I wonder what it was all about. Others I wonder why I fought back.
It could have been so easy to say yes, to give in.

It was unheard of, untold of. From thin air it came out of.
Like a gust of wind it moved. So fast it lacked sound, traced only by its path.
It moved surroundings as it went, a phantom presence.
I saw that gust everyday. Knew it was special,  but did not know what to say.
Then you saw it and I knew it was real. We gave it a name, which gave it a form.
The form gave it power, it gave it strength. It moved as it had, yet now visually traced. The creature was large, ungainly and horrid.
Now seen by all, changed from harmless to violent.
It could not be stopped, for it moved too quick.
All who approached thrown back through the air.
We threw chairs, lies, knives. They sored through it and the air.
It tried to strike back. Hand stretched out it lurched at you.
I did what I could, yet what I could failed. It killed you that day, then turned to me.
I threw a bag, catching the air like a sail. I took the bag and buried it.
They showed up the next day and told me I was wrong. I told them it killed you.
They said I was wrong. I tried to fight them.
They fought me. I lost.
I died that day. The apparition escaped.
It sought them out. It struck them down.
They died that day.
The phantom lost form, lost to the wind.
Scattered like the lives.
I tried to tell them, I tried to tell them.
I did not do it.
It killed you.
It killed them.
It killed.