Lilog224ever
I left the park this morning. I couldn't even go to the dog park without hearing gunshots. Echoing through the air, relentless, tearing through peace like it was normal. Around the corner, a playground filled with kids. Each field packed, sneakers pounding grass, laughter struggling to survive, while bullets and echoes screamed above.
This isn't just noise-it's trauma. Innocence exposed. Childhood interrupted. Every gunshot a reminder that someone's disregard outweighs safety, empathy, and humanity. Kids learn fear before they even know joy. Hypervigilance becomes their first lesson. And adults act like it's normal, like nothing is wrong.
I had to leave. I couldn't sit there and breathe that poison. It's reckless. It's cruel. It's a warning of the world we're letting our children inherit. Wake up. Open your eyes. The fields are filled with future trauma, the playground is a warning, and your bullets are the soundtrack of broken childhoods.
This poem is raw, undeniable, and unflinching. It's a call to see the truth, a reminder that life is too short to normalize chaos, and a demand for accountability.