“Hear me,” bellows the thunder to the earth.
“Hear me, or I will shake your entire planet
like a rattle in a baby’s fist.
People will fall off the sides into dark nothingness.
I will survive, and you will not.
Hear me, or this I’ll do.”

“Hear me,” commands a preacher to his congregation.
“Hear me, or the devil himself will collect you
like lost, disobedient lambs for his pasture of despair.
He’ll haunt you night and day, and night and day.
The righteous will survive.  Your souls will not.
Hear me, or this he’ll do.”

“Hear me,” coos a woman to her distant lover.
“Hear me, or I’ll go off with another, many others, who’ll be
like a band of knights compared to you, unworthy peasant.
My beautiful army will make you suffer and ache with regret.
They will survive in my heart, and you will not.
Hear me, or this they’ll do.”

“Hear me,” whispers a child to his teddy bear.
“Hear me, or no one will ever find my voice amidst the roar,
like the howling of animals in the room down the hall.
One day the monsters will surely **** each other.
Our house may survive, but we within it will not.
Hear me, or this they’ll do.”

“Hear me,” I beg of you in the candlelight.
“Hear me, or I will have never spoken at all.
Never at all.
You will slowly and unconsciously erase my existence.
Everything will survive.  I will not.
Hear me, or this you’ll do.”