Trauma (117/365)
October22
Slumping at your schooldesk
A gunman appears
The universe rips right next to you
You play dead until he leaves
Classmates you could have known
Are frozen in your memory
You walk around
With a 5-person-sized hole by your side
A deep dark void
Alone right on the precipice
You wonder if you might fall in again
Our souls like magnets
Even with strangers