Vicious, deadly, hungry.
The people scream, the children cry
It’s all too much, wails fall as roars on deaf ears.
They try to pry
Open the doors of my enclosure
My head bobs; Up, down, Up, down
The flashing lights puncture my brain
Through the pain, a single shot.
Silence.
The flashing never stops.
‘A vicious beast,’ they say
‘Good that I’m gone. ’
My mind races, races, races, and stills.
I don’t know what’s happening.
Mother never prepared me.
Never told me what nine millimeters feels like in your skull.
Where is my mother?
In San Francisco, But I didn’t know.
A bullet wound for lashing out
For merely wishing I was home.
Marina • Apr 28, 2025 at 9:30 am
So good