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pseudonym Dec 7
I'm not scared of school shootings, they don't exist.

There only on the television, not in reality.

Even if they were real, they always happen so far away

We never know the victims, so we just carry on.

I'm terrified of school shootings, the loss of a life

there all over the news, its just a matter of time.

and you know that its true when you see the mothers crying

we never know the victims, but we know they had a life

I'm not scared of the shooter, pointing the gun at my face
I'm terrified of what happened to him that made him that way
Haylin Dec 3
They say life is good
But I don't believe it.

What is good
In millions of people dying every year

What is good
In global warming

What is good
In school shootings

What is good
In floods, earthquakes, tsunamis

What is good
In being diagnosed with a chronic illness

What is good
In divorce

What is good
In your home being destroyed by a fire

Maybe there is no good
Maybe they're just lying.
Haylin Dec 3
American school bombings
London stabbings
Gaza shootings
North Korea missile launching
Russian poisoning

So many broken counties

Lying politicians
Teenage pregnancies
Kids cutting
Child *******
Babies born as addicts

So many broken people

Air Pollution
Ice caps melting
Diminishing resources
Global warming
Seas of *******

So many broken things in the world
One day people will look and wonder how the world with so much love and beautiful things became so broken
I heard the footsteps as they came across the road;
The snap of hurried feet outside the house.
Shapes in the moonlight, a voice in the darkness,
A knock at the door, I heard the dogs barking.    
The bleating of the flock,
The chatter of the birds omongst the trees,
I recall the whisper of the morning breeze;
Hyphening the broken silence as two boys stole about the house;
It was midnight in August 99.
Two sparks set out to chase the bang!
Bang!~ set them running.
I cut them down!
I cut them down!
I heard the sirens as the cops sped up the road;
The squeal of hurried wheels outside the house.
More shapes in the moonlight, a voice in the darkness,
A knock at the door, I heard the dogs barking.
The bleating of the flock,
The chatter of the birds amongst the trees,
I recall the whisper of the morning breeze;
Hyphening the broken silence as two cops stole about the house;
It was midnight in August 99.
Two cops set out to chase the bang!  
Bang! ~I put my hands up!
~and the cops took me down!
It's true ~
Judge I’m guilty, for everything they said I did; I did!
But there were reasons, don’t you see:
These boys; they were bullying me!
I called the cops on monday,  Tuesday,, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday again; till i was insain;
Two sparks set out to chase the bang!
Bang ~I cut them down ~ I cut them down!
Two cops set out to chase the bang!
Bang! ~ I put my hands up !
~ and the cops  took me down!

But the wolf just gave me twenty
untill the circus came to town,
As a victim I was lonely
but as a killer I was crowned.
King of the castle!
Top of the heap!
The talk of the town!
Here is the song link
Ellison Nov 16
The wind carries on a spell-dazed sigh
As the reflections of the faces of people go by
And I carry my form to the twisted building gate
Of mechanical eyes and ears in the school I hate

So the door leans ajar in a cavernous blue hall
And the linoleum floor sparkles and I feel quite small
Letting a giant in the authoritarian music band thrive
As his gunshot cigars remind an evil left alive

A careless whisper hangs on a thread of wonder
But the love in some eyes could all crash down like thunder
For the bullet does not care about a future or past
As an iron-tipped bird flies to deliver me at last

I float past buildings that were not made for me
They watch me go by; do tell how they could see
That I left the school with a wing’ed sly grin
But now I fear that I have deserted my own skin

So splendid days are here indeed
As here in Heaven an AR you’ll never need.
A poem dedicated to every school shooting in history.
Mallory Blake Nov 13
Here, of all places
Now, of all times
Me, of all people

Tell me, will I live to tell my story?
Micah Gerdes Nov 10
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?————————————
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?
Luna Craft Oct 1
Last night I dreamt there was a shooting in my town
At my old high school to be specific;
My and my father drove there, just to see if anyone I knew was dead
The officer was oddly cheerful
He smiled as he said just a few words.

"Only four died"

A handful, not even the double digits, such a small amount meant nothing
I asked for a list of the deceased
On it, I saw my own name
I watched as my father cried and the news vans left
This wasn't a big story, these were just a few lives
I few rounds of ammo, another kid turned killer
Another day for no questions just a body
This time it just happened to be mine
I may have outgrown my high school but not my fear
I'm in college now.

I know very well that does not make me safe
So as I wake up in another cold sweat I get ready for my day
Remembering Virginia Tech
Trying to remember the names
Not of the killer but of kids like me

Kids that died before their dreams ended
Kids that died when they left school ******
Physically well but no longer safe

And only then do I remember the killer
I want to ask them if they are happy now
What did we do to **** your mind to the point at which you had to **** others?
And they'll respond simply

"Only four died"

They weren't even frontpage news.
I saw a Shooting star
and wished to help me
to make things right between us

But instead of falling on Earth
it goes up away from Earth
de Negre Sep 27
once present,
the shadows of the not-so-forgotten
the shadow of me
we'll be used as images
to display suffering
as two animals, (nearly the same seen
from the outside)
they are tied together
arguing, like children
about why such a thing
such a painting
of my shadow on the wall
would happen

the phones will know, they will chat
speaking amongst each other
talking about the new
this and the new that
i ask what is happening
before i am next
my shadow on the wall
along with my peers
the fellow pupils

this reality is a
chorus of voices shouting at
each other saying the same things
when none of them
(if they knew the answer)
can voice the truth
as another will agree
and the next
diluting the first point
in an idea known as

my shadow will be on the wall
each square inch
a blot, from each round
which will enter me.

the voice of mine is just another
in a small chorus
stuck in a small room
all yelling amongst
one another.

at least i've accepted
my reality.
the ultimate reality of fear from of death during a school shooting. quickie #2 is not as fun as #1 i apologize.
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