By: Rachel Jones
I see students walking with their heads down,
Gray clouds above their heads while feeling a downward spiral of emotions,
Sadness, fear, and anger being just a few.
Expressions as if on death row while students plod towards the door.
Parents say an extra “I love you” before school,
Out of fear there won’t be another chance.
We have talks in school about how safe we are,
And are reassured that security measures are in place.
Everyone murmuring, not sure what to say
Because 23 times is not a coincidence,
Nor bad luck.
Twenty-three times shows that something has to change.
You think that something will change
Until ten more are dead.
Does anything change?
Instead we are handed clear backpacks,
And are forced to realize,
It will be a while before color returns to our schools,
And our backpacks.