the scarring of shootings

my dad and i sit in the car discussing the parkland shooting and he says to me, “the media did a good job this time making sure they got all the kids upset.”“the media?” i ask.“yeah, it’s not like you guys were gonna do anything. you aren’t concerned, it’s just the news brainwashing you,” he replies.i’m not concerned?you don’t think i go to school feeling safe, do you? because you’d be mistaken.i shouldn’t have to wonder if i could make the jump out of the window from the second story of my school.i shouldn’t have to question what i would text you and mom if i was laying on the floor, hiding from being shot.i shouldn’t have had what happens when i’m huddled in the corner with the girl who copies my english worksheets sitting next to me and someone with a gun breaks in, cross my mind.i shouldn’t have to think about what i would use as a weapon if someone attacked me.i shouldn’t have to be concerned every time i have a substitute teacher i know isn’t prepared to handle flying bullets.i shouldn’t have to be scared when the door to my classroom opens and it’s not in my line of sight.i shouldn’t fear going to the bathroom because what if an attacker strikes at that moment?i shouldn’t have been petrified when my phone lit up second period with a notification of a shooter two hours away.i shouldn’t have to deal with any of it. because i’m a teenager in a country that is supposed to protect me.it was supposed to protect the thirteen victims from columbine.the thirty three from virginia tech.the twenty eight from sandy hook.the six from santa monica.the nine from umpqua.the seventeen from parkland.the ten in santa fe.the kids who perished and didn’t make the news because they were the only ones who died.the teachers that were shot while protecting these children.the people who were injured and are physically fine but mentally scarred.everyweek: another shooting, another shooting, another shooting...so no, dad, i am concerned. i am angry. i am scared. i am hopeless.when will it stop?​

 

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

upnorthdavid

Sophia, thank you, thank you! No one should go to school afraid, or angry. Keep using your powerful voice

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