Tag Archives: guns

i’m not

i sat near the hen’s coop
trying hard, to understand Newton
for the test next day
waited, for the night to pass
it seemed stagnant
it tested my patience

my mind occupied with guilt
i was sorry, had to convey somehow
to the tall, slim boy, my friend
we fought; so silly of me, i thought
as i put aside Newton’s theory
 just wanted to go to school

awkwardness crept in
as i sat near him
i was scared to kick start
eye contact was a distant possibility
my heart thudded
dumbness invaded me, i thought

if i don’t speak, guilt will hang on
even after my death
because intense was my fault
opened my mouth, so
to speak up ‘hey’
but! something else spoke

strangers entered,
with weapons i’ve just heard of
they aimed at one, then one more, then another
as if their thirst is never ending
shot the pure ones with no mercy
yes! the guns spoke

i cringed under my bench
watching my classmates’ blood drip
i felt a sudden chill
when my friend grabbed my hand
i thought he bent down to hide
i was a fool, i realised

his blood was flowing down my pant.
his eyes met mine
for the last
i whispered “i love you, you’re mine, don’t leave me”
this is much more than a sorry
but he can’t listen
respond
i’m not a happy survivor
i’m not

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