By C.E. Churchill
We line up outside the schoolhouse,
Trembling in our skirts and shorts.
The wind feeds on our shivers
As it races over our bare skin,
Waiting.
Pressed up so close to one another,
We feel each and every shudder
That racks through our bodies
Like a sick ricochet of domino pieces,
Helpless as force and fate knocks them all down.
In our useless winter coats,
We line up outside the schoolhouse,
The chill of the weather nothing
Compared to the ice that freezes our hearts
As the gunman pulls the trigger.
One by one, we fall.
Like domino pieces.