The Eye



My ears start to ring as a run far away. 

My siblings... I hope they’re safe.

ive seen this before.

always on a tv screen 

never have I ever thought 

it would happen to me.

I trip over a little girl

trying to run away

i help her up, though it proves tough

Because she’s shaking with fear and pain

We’ve lost the group. Now we’re really scared. 

I say “Don’t worry, See that classroom? We’ll just go in there.

We run into the classroom, fearing the teen with the gun.

We look around, find a closet, but it can only fit one. 

I whisper to her “Go in here... don’t you dare make a sound” 

she nods her head, wipes her nose, gets into the closet and squats down.

I close it and frantically 

I try to find a new spot

tears wield, my head is pounding. I don’t want to get shot. 

I hide under the teachers desk. As I hear shots from the hall.

i know the kid, I’ve met the kid. I didn’t know he wanted to kill us all. 

Suddenly I hear foot steps. And I’m praying as best I can. Why didn’t the nation LISTEN. Why isn’t there a gun ban? 

The foot steps get louder, then suddenly it stops at the door. 

“Please god let him move on” I pray but I knew that it was all in vain. My hands tremble with mental pains. Why didn’t I tell my mother that I loved her today? Suddenly the closet door is opened. So I jump from where I hide. 

“Don’t take her take me” and suddenly I’m looking into the eye. The eye of the gun.

That has tortured me for minutes.

They eye of the devil. 

Or atleast the devils apprentice.

He cocks his gun and says “You shouldtve done that clown” 

then from behind my head. I hear “GET DOWN” 


This poem is about: 
My country


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741