Death Came to my Classroom

Death came to my classroom,

It burst right through the door.

With the deafening roar of gunfire,

The stench of blood and gore.

Its eyes gleamed bright with hatred,

Its assault rifle spitting lead.

I ran into a closet,

Consumed by fear and dread.

Bullets streaked through the darkness

One hit me in the chest.

I’m having trouble breathing,

My blood has soaked my dress.

I’ll never get my diploma,

Or go to nursing school.

I’ll never have my children,

How Death can be so cruel. 

A quick text to my mother,

“I love you mom and dad.”

But death came to my classroom,

And stole the dreams I had.

--Ken Ferguson--

Artista di Parole