The Voice (Newtown, Connecticut)

It’s sunny outside
He doesn’t like sun, never has
The Voice hated it just as much
The Voice rarely controls him, but it always made itself known
The Voice is there
Looking at the paper of the kid next to him
The Voice is there
Taking the soda without paying
The Voice is there
Walking to the school
He is numb to it now, in the last few seconds of life
He knows what they’ll say when this is over
Correction, when his life is over
They’ll call him disturbed, selfish, crazy
They’ll call him murderer
The Voice is there, laughing
“What do you expect”, the Voice cackles
He looks at the gun in his hand, and puts it to his head
He thinks this is the right thing, the only way to keep from hurting others
He’s always defied the Voice, always making his own decisions
In this moment he will listen, in this moment he will pull the trigger
He will listen to the Voice and do the right thing
The pull of the trigger, the bang of the gun
The Voice has spared the remaining children
If only he had learned to listen to the Voice sooner

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