• siraysia 5w

    Chants rang out clear and loud
    The youths were calling
    Sweat glistened off their backs
    Faces with tears over flowing
    Mother screamed
    Father ordered
    The line must not be crossed they demanded
    But i had been hurt
    I ached to have it all go
    Slowly, my weary limbs lifted me up
    My right hand in the air
    Fist tightened
    The chant begging to leave my lips
    Then I felt it,
    That cold feeling of dread
    As reality rushes back in a mad swoop,
    A trickle becomes rivulets
    I see red
    I shake off the feeling and stand
    A prickling sensation urges me to turn
    I see myself on the ground
    Bodies rush past and through me
    Then i realize
    I never even began the fight.