Is this the day I die?
My friends have been shot down … one by one.
How did he get inside here?
Who let him put his hands on a gun?
Mister Beigel stands in the threshold of the door.
There are more of us pouring inside, some people I’ve never seen before.
The alarm rings above our withering heads. What’s going on here?
Why are all of my friends dead?
Though Mister Beigel is no longer standing, I can’t see where he’s gone.
I crawl across the tile floor, praying that this is all a dream.
What’s going on here? Why can’t anyone talk? Is he gone? Is he still hunting us all down?
I crawl farther, and keep looking, while everyone continues to cry.
Mister Beigel has fallen to the ground.
Mister Beigel has died.
The tears begin to pour.
The gunfire again erupts.
Someone needs to put a stop to this
Because we have had enough.
The innocent lives of people –
Someone’s husband, someone’s child…
Will soon be forgotten, just like the rest –
When another shooting happens in a while.
Where is our “president” when he should be taking a stand?
When will the violence stop?
When the gun is pointed at him?
In someone else’s hands?
Is this the way that our generation leaves its mark on the world?
This is not a place where I’d want to raise my little boy … or little girl.
To show them that it is acceptable to let a gun fall into the wrong hands?
To show them that they can be irrational, to show them where others stand?
We will continue to shed these tears and say our last goodbyes.
We will still pay a tribute to all of our friends and loved ones who have died.
We need our voices to be heard – we plead for gun control.
We plead to save the lives of so many more.
We plead to change the world.
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