TW: Blood, Violence, Guns, Su*cide
At just 18, I am tired.
I am tired of having my heart
gunned down, bleeding, broken,
a crimson spatter on a glittery floor,
mixing with the lipstick of someone I am
not allowed to kiss.
The 1 in 4 were tired too,
red rope ribbons along their slender necks,
forever swinging their feet to a
silent melody.
I wonder if the 5 were tired of dancing
or if their routine was just beginning—
cut off by a firework finale they did not design,
loud sound that overpowered the
thumping bass
voices singing
laughter ringing:
those were not the shots we came here for.
I wish I could write about something different
but I write to process emotions I do not understand,
and I do not understand why
some love can live forever
and some cannot exist without terror,
anxious looks over the shoulder for fear of existing too loudly.
Why will I always worry about my friends
wearing white while
kissing like a thunderclap while
wrapping arms around each other while
being buried,
earth encircling them in their infinite embrace?
Will our safe spaces always become
final resting places?
Explanation: After the shooting at Club Q, I was confronted with feelings about the senseless violence that often occurs against marginalized communities. The reference to "the 5" are the five victims who lost their lives in the tragic hate crime. The "1 in 4" is a reference to the statistic that was recently published saying that 1 in 4 LGBTQ+ youth attempted suicide in the beginning of 2021.
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