Run...
Run, and you might make it.
Run, and you might get to say it.
Run, but hold their hand so WE can say it.
Get to the door with no bloodshed, with none left dead.
But wait.. he's back there.
He's stuck with the barrel... a barrel that wasn't meant for him
we tried to grab him.
BUT HE WAS ALREADY DOWN
run.
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Author:
Bloody Pen (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 16th, 2024 21:41
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is about losing a friend in middle school to gun violence. On our way home from school, we went home minutes apart, and he ended up being caught in the fire.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments1
A tragic event that sadly would be impossible to forget. A young life taken in such s violent manner. An event that must have been replayed in your mind many times. I’m sorry you had to experience that. Such a sad poem.
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