"Hide in here."
I shut the shelter,
securing my sister
within the hanging
fabric shells,
shrouding her
in my protection.
The first bomb erupts,
shattering peace into pieces
of cheap glass,
coating the floor
like ice on a bridge. Danger,
bridge freezes before road.
Mom begins to wail,
but the siren signals too late
to escape the collision:
His words—Her heart.
And I will never fear
Sticks and Stones.
Instead, I will fear
Words. Disgustful
syllables strung together
to guillotine my mind.
I wish it had been me
sealed inside the shelter.
"Dad is home."
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