we all saw it on the news.
we all heard it in whispers between classes and between days.
The darkness means something different now.
The night's sky has been forged into the sharpest blade
and we can feel it in the air
now weighed down by evaporated blood.
thirty-seven times!
what impossible cruelty could guide the hand to this?
Did he feel a single thing?
husk or blazing fire, the actions are the same
but the question still traces its finger down my throat.
They told us to be vigilant
as if vigilance can survive the knife.
So we live in the corners of our eyes,
and gaze at the shoes of passersbys
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