The Voice (Newtown, Connecticut)

It’s sunny outside He doesn’t like sun, never has The Voice hated it just as much The Voice rarely controls him, but it always made itself known The Voice is there Looking at the paper of the kid next to him The Voice is there Taking the soda without paying The Voice is there Walking to the school He is numb to it now, in the last few seconds of life He knows what they’ll say when this is over Correction, when his life is over They’ll call him disturbed, selfish, crazy They’ll call him murderer The Voice is there, laughing “What do you expect”, the Voice cackles He looks at the gun in his hand, and puts it to his head He thinks this is the right thing, the only way to keep from hurting others He’s always defied the Voice, always making his own decisions In this moment he will listen, in this moment he will pull the trigger He will listen to the Voice and do the right thing The pull of the trigger, the bang of the gun The Voice has spared the remaining children If only he had learned to listen to the Voice sooner