“We were”
We were meant to be children,
Not tiny soldiers armed with number twos, glue, and instinct.
We were meant to grow older,
To put our small and mighty fingerprint on the world, like a permanent smudge,
Not to play hide and seek with the nose of a rifle.
We were meant to see mom
After 3:12 in our spot, where I’d tell her I no longer like peanut butter in my lunch-
Not peacefully imagining her face as the crimson wound
Bloomed and blossomed across my chest
Like watching that time-lapsed video of a flower’s life cycle in science
Where we learned all living things
Die.
We were meant to trust you,
So we knew our 9-1-1 pleas, whispering “please come, please,”
Would be taken seriously.
Now we paint our bodies in Bobby and Mary’s thick, sticky blood,
Where we laid and prayed we looked just dead enough.
Pop pop.
No one comes.
Pop pop pop.
The music starts.
Pop pop bang-
There goes Billy - but we were meant to play tag today.
Yes, we were meant to be children-
Children who grow, see, imagine, and trust;
Not lovingly placed in tiny boxes for tiny graves,
Where lilies were meant to bring comfort
But really they smell too ripe. Spoiled.
Like death.
We were meant to be
More.
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