death by a thousand bullets

and i grew afraid of school

not really of going  that itself

was not unknown

but of   dying     there

of talking my last breath

beneath a cracked desk, petrified gum filling my vision,

          being drenched in blood, maybe some was emma’s?

of dying from a metal bullet to

                                      the brain

          that should have been studying

          for my dreaded algebra test on friday…

          (i got fifty-four percent on the last one, but ive really been studying)

from slowly losing the feelings in my legs

that should have been running to second base

base in gym

            (i need to get an A after all)

            of seeing my friends dead, or

            being being the first to go

of just being another name in the news

            that doesnt mean anything

            because the kids keep dying

                        and lockdowns take up my time for learning