Survivor’s Guilt
A Poem in the Moments of a Tragedy
Taillights flicker ahead of me,
Cloudy skies and full fog.
There’s been a shooting.
Parkland,
Florida.
It somehow stings more.
Students like me.
Not history, news.
Not news, now.
Right now.
The white pickup truck in front of me lets out a cloud of black smoke.
My tank is half empty and my stomach hurts.
I have to pee.
Kids are dying,
Nobody’s running in the streets,
I can’t hear screams.
678 miles away
Kids are dying,
People are dying,
Again,
And again,
And again,
At the hands of guns
In the hands of evil.
I’m speeding now.
Kids are dying
And we don’t do anything
Again,
And again,
And again.
Kids are dying,
People are dying,
And I’m just driving.
About the Creator
Scarlett Elizabeth
18. I write short stories and poetry.
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High Thoughts
Now that I am taking a hiatus from smoking, I have decided to dive into the odd depths of my notes on my phone that I have been consistently adding to. When I’m high and have a particularly interesting thought, I jot it down in my notes, to be reassessed with a sober mind. I am a writer as well as a poet, but I fear my high self does not do a good job at portraying that. Still, I present to you, straight from my notes, typos and all, my odd and abstract high thoughts.
By Scarlett Elizabeth6 years ago in Poets
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