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distant sound of sirens in the

background, mimicking the

echo of a gun round

a fire is a blaze

a maze of fear in their eyes

as they

watch the life from a loved

ones face

dissipate

into nothing more than

memories,

a grave

silence of grace

thinner than the breath of a

newborn

a forlorn fortune teller weeps

as

she sees the future of

potential fall short

then

zzzt

a retort breaks the infinite

silence

mother screaming as she

holds her child flowing

unneeded violence

a cycle driven on divine

offense

defenseless victims could be

anyone, nameless

call it john doe

too short of time to ask, no

fight or flight reflex never

hits

when not given a change to

fix

misguided aim and

bam

thereʼs “situation” to blame

no trial no case

another crime in an unread

book,

too blind to

realize systemic flaws,

overlooked

blood spilt to be another

statistic,

a reality, unrealistic

to these apparent “good”

standards of living; i musta

missed it

and when it comes to the

day

when lockdown drill,

turns killin field

ill become another statistic

dead or alive,

point of view spoken, but

unheard

iʼll watch the news heard

to another, school

condolences blurred

wonʼt take pity from a hive

mind

dead set on dramatizing

death

so donʼt mind me, iʼll hold

my breath

a bit longer each time

i hear a siren

a milage of casualties follow

‘em

an omen always heard

and never ignored