Though I Survived School Massacre
© Surazeus
2018 04 02
The young girl glides in the garden of flowers
and pauses by the bower covered in vines
to listen to the sparkling of the fountain
as the blue butterfly lands on her finger.
Gazing at intricate spirals of color,
she sees beyond its beauty the young boy
slouched against the oak tree with cloudy face,
so she glides over and sits at his side.
Eating raisins from the little red box,
she offers him some with her beaming smile,
so he accepts, then he chews thoughtfully
as she asks him, "Why are you sad, my friend?"
Shaking his head in frustration, he sighs.
"I was among the students who were shot
two months ago at the normal high school,
but survived though I was shot in the arm.
Dozens of my friends and other classmates
were shot dead by bullets piercing their souls,
fired by the boy who hated everyone,
but though I too was shot I did not die.
I went to the rally in Washington
against guns, that we named March For Our Lives,
and I spoke on stage for strict gun control,
urging Congress to pass protective laws.
Now gun-loving Christian conservatives
attack me with insults and mocking names,
accusing me of getting paid to speak,
even though I survived school massacre.
The principal of my average high school,
where dozens of my classmates were gunned down,
suspended me for speaking at the march,
even though I survived from getting shot.
I cannot understand this rancid hate
fired at me because I want guns controlled
since I was shot and many friends were killed
by the hateful boy who could buy the gun.
I want to stop killings by angry boys
by making guns difficult to acquire,
requiring background checks and waiting periods
that slow the purchase of killing machines.
I want to protect people so they live,
but they want more angry boys to kill more,
willing to sacrifice innocent lives
through blood sacrifice to their God of War.
I must accept that every living person
plays predator and prey in hunt of life,
fighting to defend their right to exist
and protect other people whom they love.
When boys get angry because they feel weak
they want to hunt and kill the innocent,
but if they have no gun they cannot kill,
so I want to keep good people alive."
The young girl wraps her arms around his soul
and hugs him tight to beam love from her heart,
then skips away to follow butterflies
while he smiles, delighted to see her play.
"I wish that we could rid the world of guns,
melting them to mold new parts for machines,
tools for building instead of tools for death,
so I can protect her spirit from harm.
Thus frightened boys cling to killing machines
and revile me as I fight for my right
to not get shot by angry boys with guns,
though I survived school massacre from luck."
The butterfly lands on back of his head
and the girl reaches out to touch his soul.
© Surazeus
2018 04 02
The young girl glides in the garden of flowers
and pauses by the bower covered in vines
to listen to the sparkling of the fountain
as the blue butterfly lands on her finger.
Gazing at intricate spirals of color,
she sees beyond its beauty the young boy
slouched against the oak tree with cloudy face,
so she glides over and sits at his side.
Eating raisins from the little red box,
she offers him some with her beaming smile,
so he accepts, then he chews thoughtfully
as she asks him, "Why are you sad, my friend?"
Shaking his head in frustration, he sighs.
"I was among the students who were shot
two months ago at the normal high school,
but survived though I was shot in the arm.
Dozens of my friends and other classmates
were shot dead by bullets piercing their souls,
fired by the boy who hated everyone,
but though I too was shot I did not die.
I went to the rally in Washington
against guns, that we named March For Our Lives,
and I spoke on stage for strict gun control,
urging Congress to pass protective laws.
Now gun-loving Christian conservatives
attack me with insults and mocking names,
accusing me of getting paid to speak,
even though I survived school massacre.
The principal of my average high school,
where dozens of my classmates were gunned down,
suspended me for speaking at the march,
even though I survived from getting shot.
I cannot understand this rancid hate
fired at me because I want guns controlled
since I was shot and many friends were killed
by the hateful boy who could buy the gun.
I want to stop killings by angry boys
by making guns difficult to acquire,
requiring background checks and waiting periods
that slow the purchase of killing machines.
I want to protect people so they live,
but they want more angry boys to kill more,
willing to sacrifice innocent lives
through blood sacrifice to their God of War.
I must accept that every living person
plays predator and prey in hunt of life,
fighting to defend their right to exist
and protect other people whom they love.
When boys get angry because they feel weak
they want to hunt and kill the innocent,
but if they have no gun they cannot kill,
so I want to keep good people alive."
The young girl wraps her arms around his soul
and hugs him tight to beam love from her heart,
then skips away to follow butterflies
while he smiles, delighted to see her play.
"I wish that we could rid the world of guns,
melting them to mold new parts for machines,
tools for building instead of tools for death,
so I can protect her spirit from harm.
Thus frightened boys cling to killing machines
and revile me as I fight for my right
to not get shot by angry boys with guns,
though I survived school massacre from luck."
The butterfly lands on back of his head
and the girl reaches out to touch his soul.
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