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Micah Gerdes Nov 2018
Shooter
What makes you this way
Is it the game on your computer
Or is it in your DNA?

Is it alcohol?
Or drugs?
The urge to end it all?
Deathly Spirits, do they tug at you?

Or is it PTSD?
Images and feelings from long ago
That you can’t unsee?
What made us cross the line 19 years ago?————————————
Why?
I’ve always wondered why so many shootings are happening nowadays. What is it individually that causes these, and what are exactly are they thinking?
In my homeroom class, we don't have a seating chart.
But I still sit as far away from the door as I can.
Subconsciously it's probably because of a school shooting.
I've been anticipating one to strike at my small high school for a couple years now.
It's probably because of a lock down we had a couple years ago when I was still in middle school.
There were armed men on campus.
We had to be silent for hours.
I was in choir at the time.
Over 100 of us were squeezed into a small space.
There were girls crying,
my best friend was holding my hand,
I was having an anxiety attack.
I was only thinking
"Please not today..."

I'm not surprised anymore.
When another school is in the news,
it's deeply upsetting
but not surprising.
It's all I've ever known.
The Columbine High School shooting happened in 2001.
I was born a year later.
I've never actually known peace in this country...
Madeline Thetard May 2018
The first gun shot was before
lunch period had started

She was sitting in math class
wondering whether she would buy the burger
or the salad
with the three dollars in her pocket
She was doodling on
her math notebook
cartoon cats with flower wreaths

She was studious, never really liked math
had a tiny crush on the boy sitting next to her
and wondered if it would rain today

The first gun shot was before
lunch period had started

Screams erupted in the hallway
Head slammed lockers
as faculty asked students to clean
their wounds
as teachers asked students to tell their spouses
everything they never got to say

Kids hid in cabinets and under desks
covered their faces with backpacks
maybe their binders were more bulletproof
than their skulls

The girl clutched the hand of the boy next to her
and wondered why she could only touch him
right before she was about to die

Neither one thought they’d be staring down
the scope of a gun
looking into a madman’s soul before
lunch period started

As all of the children who were killed on that day
rested in their graves
calculus homework and English assignments
still written as reminders on the palms of their hands
bruised by the locker they hit on their way down

Nations weeped and families sobbed
many thought that their deaths might
be the anthem of change

But all their deaths sparked were
prayers and condolences
an “I’m sorry” and a “That really *****”
as the next madman loaded up his gun
two sorry days later

Sixteen is too young to die

The girl had never driven car
Never knew what it was like to be held
Never knew what it was like to be kissed
Never knew what it was like to be to be told
the world was everything she made it to be

No, the world she lived in was the place
where her peers had to live in fear
not because they didn’t do their homework
but because students might die today

In her grave her mouth was a tight line
childish cheeks and acne-scarred skin
the youth was lost in her eyes because
she lived in a world where her classmates’ blood
was splattered on the school’s linoleum floors

And no one cared enough to do
anything about it
Something must be done.
winnie Apr 2018
fifteen hours.
fourteen, depending on
where in australia you are from.
but for me, it is fifteen hours.

los angeles is fifteen-hour flight from melbourne.
fifteen hours on a plane, and you’ll be in america.
you’ll be in a ****** country, where it almost seems like
the new craze is to be a shooter,
and you only get noticed if you get shot.

they are begging, pleading,
“please stop them from killing us,
our families, our friends!”
and the others say
“oh, but i really love my gun.”
“and i care about my gun more than i care about you.”
“and i care more about my machine made to take life than about you
getting to keep yours.”
and that’s just that, i suppose.

i am fifteen hours away from a ****** country,
and i can’t tell if i’m too close
or not close enough.

i am fifteen hours away from a ****** country,
and for some reason,
that’s just fine.
sunprincess Feb 2018
All is not well in the land of milk and honey
We have just received reports
A certain someone was reported,
not once but twice
And he declared to the world via youtube
He was going to be a professional school shooter,
and the bureau confessed
To sweeping this under the rug
Their acknowledgement of doing nothing
caught us all by surprise
Isaac Ward Nov 2017
I dismiss the attention nobody pays,
To the way I stay in games for days,
They say "You're wasting your time away",
But I'll play till I hit the grave,

Cause,

One more level, another point, another match,
Double ****, triple ****, don't crash,
Every day, getting better, no sweat,
Zero deaths, forty kills, no regret,

Top tier, s rank, winning streak,
Don't lose, don't die, not weak,
Can't miss, gotta win, don't quit,
Flanking, execution, legit,

We've got Contacts, reload,
Spawn traps, implode,
Bringing heavy artillery,
This is the Gamer's Creed.
Ella Sep 2017
They drew tiny sketches

On eachother journals

Ignoring the video

In my 8th period spanish class

No words where even spoken between them

Just side eye glances and smiles

I gave then disappointing glares

To get back to the lesson

They rolled their eyes

And got back to the notes

Who would guess

Such a small moment

Would be the last they had together

Before the man in a mask walked in

And stole their childhood

With the pull of a trigger

Maybe if I had known

I would have let him keep making her laugh

For her last time
some people wont understand but some poeple will.
CautiousRain Jul 2015
Pull the trigger, take a hit,
poison drips from fingertips,
each pill shimmers upon the floor,
a deadly grip if taken more.

Casing lined in gold or silver,
with each hit, it takes a sliver;
a busted brain, a mangled heart,
they knew the risks from the start.

A curtailed cry, cut short goodbye,
two bullets settle in throat and thigh;
eyes rolled back in a glassy stare,
lips pulled apart, a forbidden pair.

Pull the trigger, take a hit,
blood runs red from fingertips,
men resting silent upon the floor,
the chamber clicks to silence more.
#MorningInspiration
sperrys on his feet, frost on his head; you cross his path; now your dead!
Words in his mouth, eye can never keep count... He needs to cool out!!!
Rider for me: even though we don't agree, he's a shooter for the Queen! As it shall always be!!!!!

My geeteeaye shooter, ain't nothing cooler!
Hahahahah! A little **** around!

— The End —