Last November

Last November,

We all got the call,

From our school,

To warn us all.

Last November someone wrote:

"I'm going to shoot the school up on Friday".

No one believed it to be a joke.

I talked to my parents,

scared of tomorrow.

Texted my friends,

wondering if they'd be there tomorrow.

I went that Friday.

I went and it was terrifying.

Before we even made it to our classes we heard in the hallway

a loud

BANG!

Some of us dropped our books, 

others started to run, 

we were ready to hit the floor or hide

in case someone had a gun.

It was a false alarm,

someone dropped a text book.

It wasn't even first hour,

and there was a lump in my throat.

Some of my friends didn't show,

their parents wanted them to stay at home.

Many cops roamed our halls,

I wore running shoes "just in case",

so I wouldn't fall.

Other classmates and I had plans,

plans that if we heard that sound,

we'll break through that window,

that was our plan,

to run into the field nearby,

and hope for the best.

Nothing came of the threat.

The student wrote it to impress their friends,

but every day I feel panicked,

scared,

what if it happens again,

but not to impress.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country

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