shelter in place
all i can hear anymore is
the soft hammering of
heartbeats like footprints in the snow,
and the claxon
is pouding through my temples.
i wish i could think of something.
really anything at all but,
all that comes forth is
'dear god, i'm too young to die'.
we've heard it in the news,
we've heard the heartfelt mothers crying through
the reporters microphones like
little lost birds, trying
to find their nest,
but their nest was laying dead
on the bathroom floor,
algebra homework scattered
all around,
dyed red with a childs blood.
oh god please, please
please don't.
this used to be something fun, nuzzling
up to your friend, smelling her hair,
but all i can smell is terror now
and
when I look around the room all i see is
real fear.
it's scary when it's raw;
no sugar added now, so
how do you like that?
oh god please,
we are just a small school. i don't know anyone here who
would want to do it.
well, i guess they say that
you don't know until they
are firing rounds.
i saw the Sandy Hook PSA,
the one with the girl who was in the bathroom,
telling her mom she loved her,
before the door opened.
did i tell my mom
i loved her today?
i've never really prayed before, and
my balding baby head was never
dumped in
holy water.
even the tough knot kids arn't
even cracking smiles anymore.
and i can't tell if i'm crying or,
if i'm even alive anymore.
i know it's probably a drill.
i know it's probably not going to be anything but,
what if?
and when he knocks on the
door to say
'the drill is over'
i swear to my own invisible
god,
everyone jumps a little.
is that death knocking on our door?
and just like that, it get's quiet again, and
we all pretend like nothing happened.
but deep inside i know we all had the same thoughts.