Shrink wrapped in a breath-riled panic,
The violence was over
Before a word could be splattered

Blood covered like a trail of chalk
Unbranded up and down the waiting area
With broken glass slumped on seats

Drenched in split skin and broken nails
All the way down the escalators
And back onto the main concourse

Lining the ceiling in screams
As the rifle opened fire over and over

Concealed in warnings

You had warned me about
Half an hour before

Which I had stupidly ignored
Dismissing it as a gust of wind
Instead of a warning that
History was going to repeat itself.



(A Short Prologue of a epic Poem to start as part of NapWrimo in April.
There will be a second Prologue in March. Get in touch if interested in getting involved)