It's Not Real

March 25, 2018
By TashaS BRONZE, Sammamish, Washington
TashaS BRONZE, Sammamish, Washington
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

It’s not real,
When the alarm sounds
And the calm on the teacher’s face
Transforms into fear.

It’s not real,
When you hear the popping
And screams fly around you loud and shrill
As freely as the bullet that silences them.

It’s not real,
When you see your friend
Lying face-down in a pool of their blood
No sound or movement.

It’s not real,
When you remember
How calm and loud the morning was,
When everyone smiled and chatted.

It’s not real,
When the only noise
Is the firing of the bullets
And the muffled cries.

It’s not real,
When you stare down the barrel,
Your heart stopping and all you can see
Is the owner smiling.

It’s not real,
Until the trigger is pulled,
Then it is.


The author's comments:

I wrote this poem, inspired by the way students who are survivors of school shootings say that during the crisis, they had felt that everything wasn't real until they saw the consequences of the shooter's actions. 


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