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Fireharms
For the longest time,
school was the place I call home.
Yes, it never fully kept me away from the nightmares.
The lies.
The pushing and pulling.
Not sure which is worse when the pain is happening at home and school.
Either way, I am considered a fool.
My tormentors playing Ring Around the Rosie.
But, this time it is not my ashes that are spilling.
Lives are fragile.
Yet, they are easily broken by a metal bullet flying a mile.
The nonstop killing.
Hearts stop.
Exposed brains drop.
The never-ending tears start.
The metallic stench rises.
Killing without remorse.
Pushing a bully or the disturbed does not take much of a force.
The screams.
The cries.
They all die.
Dead under a pile of bullets.
Buried under layers of dirt.
All because of this world of hurt.
Young or old.
There will always be a new story of a shooting to be told.
A gun never discriminates.
-Snow that Flutters down like Feathers