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Sep 2018
The sound of the blistering gunshots pound in my ringing ears,
Bringing on a headache of a thousand wounds,
Impenetrable by the outside force,

The sight of the innocent fallen colors from the opinions of others brought to a vicious reality and physicality that would slaughter the purest of souls,
Bringing fear that is everlasting and never forgotten in my mind that shall remain forever damaged,

The feeling and sense of the souls that hammer my barely beating heart,
My breath burning slower like a fire dying out,
I try and scream but all that would come was a faint and distant shout,

The uttermost terrifying taste of the foul air,
So bad that the puke climbing up to my throat shall retreat before execution,
I mutter to myself This is not fair"

The most agony and torment any individual may be so unfortunate as to experience,
The smell of the rage and the misery filling my nostrils as I try to keep striving for what I have arrived here for,

Before I stand once again I notice the blood on my dirtied and culpable hands,

I fall to the ground so lost that I have forgotten to feel the unforgiving wound in my chest,
The guilt stabbed harder than any bullet ever could and ever would,
And as I took my final breath I vowed to myself,
To never fight over opinion and shame ever again,
Or I shall die once and for all.
This is a metaphor, however, I wrote this to allow you to decide how you interpret it.
Lauren Bloss
Written by
Lauren Bloss  15/F/America
(15/F/America)   
  783
     Melancholy of Innocence, Fawn and ---
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