Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Tragedy seems unreal, Like a foreign movie. I'm only a spectator Front row for reality. I see the shooter, the victims. A hundred hired to act. Fake blood paints pavements. The bullets are blanks. … *But the bullets pierce And the blood is warm. A hundred targets are found. Few to recover from harm. There won't be a 'cut!' No take four or take five. This is no movie. A shot takes a life.*
0
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 6:59 AM UTC
Shot
Tragedy seems unreal, Like a foreign movie. I'm only a spectator Front row for reality. I see the shooter, the victims. A hundred hired to act. Fake blood paints pavements. The bullets are blanks. … *But the bullets pierce And the blood is warm. A hundred targets are found. Few to recover from harm. There won't be a 'cut!' No take four or take five. This is no movie. A shot takes a life.*
dornish-bastard
Written by
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 6:59 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem