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ArnaudBarras.ch

Critical, creative and digital writingEcriture critique, créative et numérique

 ? 𝞪/A
2009transpositions  

Gunshot

That shriek was terrible, my ears resonate still. First was a deflagration, then a whistling bullet, The girl took it in her right eye, the boy had shot it. Now I glance towards her corpse, where blood the earth fills. The crying mother, an aura of sadness flooding her face, Runs, stumbles and falls at her daughter's side. She sobs and the earth absorbs her keening tide. I think… Yes, our life is an intermingling space, Where girls and boys and laughs and cries, Meet in places that no one had thought about, The hazardous space is full of shocks so loud, Yet we're never ready to bury a child. Gunshots, events some meet every day, Till finally they're taken into the realm of death. I think… Yes, our life is an intermingling space, In which girls and boys do strive to stay.
That shriek was terrible, my ears resonate still. First was a deflagration, then a whistling bullet, The girl took it in her right eye, the boy had shot it. Now I glance towards her corpse, where blood the earth fills. The crying mother, an aura of sadness flooding her face, Runs, stumbles and falls at her daughter's side. She sobs and the earth absorbs her keening tide. I think… Yes, our life is an intermingling space, Where girls and boys and laughs and cries, Meet in places that no one had thought about, The hazardous space is full of shocks so loud, Yet we're never ready to bury a child. Gunshots, events some meet every day, Till finally they're taken into the realm of death. I think… Yes, our life is an intermingling space, In which girls and boys do strive to stay.