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The Guns… Poem

The following is based on a very disturbing dream I had last night. I don’t think I have dreamt anything that terrifying and I have no idea where it came from. I want to write it up in a short story, but I am not sure I can. I simply wrote this (rather bad) poem to remind me off it. What an absolute nightmare. Why?

I heard the guns go off
When we looked outside
Men were shooting wildly
At everyone in sight

The panic in the streets
Running all for cover
A woman flat on her face
Her bags are all around her
I wonder if she is dead
But cannot know for sure

It is a Saturday
A busy shopping street
The unbelievable scene
Unfolding there beneath us
Makes my breath stop in my throat
I feel my thoughts shut down

Then I am suddenly there
Still in the safety of the flat
But yet right there between them
Hearing silent screams and panic
Terror in the air
I feel it in my bones

I see a man shot near me
Lying in the street
A guy comes to check him
And shoots the back of his neck

All this senseless violence
I wonder at the why
Yet I am glad I am here
So far away removed
I curse my cowardice
But what else could I do?


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