The clocks were pointing at twelve.
Nobody knew about the kid crying in the bathroom stall.
He pressed a revolver to his temple,
waiting for the courage to sieze him.
Nobody even knew his name was Ethan.
The clocks were pointing at twelve sixteen.
His time was running out.
He didn't know the upperclassmen would walk in,
or that they'd start banging on the stall door for fun.
Nobody new Ethan stuffed a gun
into his wasteband that day.
Nobody knew he'd get beaten up one last time
in that restroom
Or that he'd try to hide the gun
behind a trashcan during the scuffle
or that it'd go off.
The clocks were pointing at twelve twenty-five.
Nobody knew two boys would die-
one beaten to death,
one with an accidental GSW.