The wrath in his bullets

Footsteps thumping, loud bangs, children screaming,
My pulse is racing, my head is pounding, and then suddenly I drop.
I lay there choking as I desperately try to hold on for life.
I was a daughter, I was a friend, I am a victim,
I was at the will of someone elses mercy not knowing that I would be next until he came.
He came with the intention of hurt and hate,
His wrath could be felt in each bullet as they exploded against my back,
We could've prevented this, we should've prevented this,
If only they had taken us seriously, they are supposed to keep us safe, but the corruption of money and power had once again shown me what my life is worth.
Footsteps fading, quieting bangs, children crying,
My pulse is slowing, my head is fuzzy, and then the world goes quiet and I finally feel peace.

This poem is about: 
My country

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