Sandy Hook

Sandy Hook

Voices underneath the concrete

speak of flowers set in stone

tiny faces looking upward

To a place that some call home

Watery blues and frozen ashes

Plague them with small shadows, growing doubts

standing still while the world thrashes

for commas in their bank accounts

And we’re all trapped in our frenzy

As we try to make our peace

With powdered faces still forever

Little voices from beneath


It’s been days and I still can’t believe it. I’ve stopped asking how and started asking why. How does the world mess someone up so bad? Why couldn’t we stop it? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe, even with every effort made, there’s always going to be that one outlier. I don’t know. I can’t wrap my mind around it.

About thesarahsector

A teenage girl who doesn't say OMG or LOL. I like Trader Joes scones, NYC, and writing. Check out my blog at:
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