You shot me.

You put your hand up,

brought it up, and let it out.

You shot me.

You spat and screamed

and let it out.

Don’t run form what you’ve done.

You’ve injured this woman.

Don’t even apologize.

Because like Maya Angelou,

still I rise,

because like Anne Sexton,

I can say I’ve been her kind

because You shot me

You shot me.

You looked at me,

blinked, and it was done.

You’ve injured potential,

hurt faith,

and throttled meaning.

But don’t get it twisted

This is a wound that heals itself

That will have permanent scar tissue

To remind this woman of what You did.

Don’t let your false sense of ignorance blind You.

You knew what was going on,

and you still shot me.

You shot me with those words

that put a hole right through my heart.

You shot me.