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I like to think of myself as an old leather journal, with thick pages that have dark ink scribbled all over them. There are lines through entire pages, and ink blots where great ideas have flowed. Yet all the same I am someone to cherish, to remember

Message from Writer

"But here is the truth of nostalgia: we don't feel it for who we were, but who we weren't. We feel it for all the possibilities that were open for us, but that we didn't take."
-Welcome to Night Vale

No Longer Innocent

April 16, 2017

The gun trembles in my hands,
heavier now that the bullets gone.
Shot through the silent night.                               
He lay dead on the ground, blood
slowly bubbling up from between his glazed, hazy eyes.
Not suffering at all,
that's what I could tell them.            

He hadn't suffered.
He hadn't been kept up at night by the haunting memories. 
He hadn't prodded at the bullet hole wonder if it was real.
He wasn’t forced to hold the gun himself
pulling the trigger with an innocence so strong 
he believed it wouldn’t fire.
He didn't have to walk the streets, 
afraid that every shorter than average kid 
was going to gun him down like the last one.
He wasn't awoken every night in a sweat,
sun rise and fall pass while he's too afraid to fall back asleep. 
 He wouldn't have to explain
to his friends how he got that bullet lodged in his skull.
 He didn't suffer.

I drop the gun.
 Listening to it as it hit the ground with a thud. 
I raised my trembling hands and breathed in,
hoping for the sweet numbing relief to wash over me.
For all the years of suffering and frustration to simply
echo away down the alley hall.
For all he did to me to disappear.

I tug down the edges of my sleeves, 
Hiding old scars from peeking out
the shame now blossoming down my hands.
The idea of being caught never crossing my mind.
The police don't listen to silly little girls,
heads caught in her daydreams of being a milk carton kid.
His sins had been a gimmick,
mine were revenge.

I left him there.
Feeling only slight relief with what I've done. 
He hadn't suffered, 
but I had.



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  • April 16, 2017 - 12:57am (Now Viewing)

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