Woke up to blood washing over my bed,
The echo of guns filling the dank air.
Hope wants to cover its head
with the damp, wrinkled sheets
and hide from all the evil.
How can this be fixed?
We are all crying.
What have we become?
No bandaid will cover this wound.
No amount of screaming on social media will heal this.
I long to run far away
from words that burn like acid tossed in innocent faces.
Tears drop by drop
This crushed family.
Long to fly away like a butterfly
but the delicate wings are clipped
and pain is deep,
a dark cave filled with terrible monsters
who look just like us,
who smile as they wipe up the blood.
We are broken.