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Aug 2
I remember it pretty clearly,
It was Sunday, June 12th, 2016,
It was a rainy summer as usual,
I was 11-years-old at the time,
I was sitting in my bedroom,
Listening to the radio when I heard it.
It was the first time I heard about mass-shootings.
49 deaths.
53 injuries.
It left me in shock.
It had never occurred to me that people could be so blinded by hatred and intolerance.
They don't write songs for heartbreaks like this,
There isn't a " chick flick " that could fix this,
I feel like someone has poured fire over all my emotions,
Tonight, it feels as if the sky is a graveyard of dead stars.
I'm not going to turn this into some poetic masterpiece.
This is death,
Unfixable wrongs,
Unhealable wounds.
The guilt of still being here when 49 lives are gone is drowning me.
I am sick of praying like something is going to happen,
I am sick of praying until my knees ache,
I am sick of talking about it,
People spitting out opinions like gunfire from a rifle,
Spilling out like blood with their last breaths,
I am sick of wet cheeks and red eyes.
It feels like everybody is to blame,
But at the same time, nobody is to blame,
The system is to blame,
The government is to blame,
We are to blame.
This is becoming our new " normal "
But right now it feels like we are all halfway between a heartbeat and heartbreak.
B The Poet
Written by
B The Poet  15/Non-binary/my brain, where else?
(15/Non-binary/my brain, where else?)   
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