when i told them how they mocked me and made me feel no one tried to listen they said i was making it up when i told them about people fucking with me and calling me a faggot they didn't listen and suggested i wasn't right i found a friend who felt the same way we dreamed of defeating the evil that rose up against us and so we aquired the weaponry to implode the evil we waited and we waited for the opportunity and so one spring afternoon it happened as we threw open the doors it felt good no one had listened to us but we listened Eric and I as the bodies hit the floor we shot the little black midget in the face as he cowered under the table and then the little whore who laughed with the fuckers as they said Eric and I were fags before we shot her we asked knowing we were going to kill her if she believed in jesus she said yes so we shot her. after the massacre we trooped out and they stood there facing us the ghosts and as Eric pointed his gun at me and i pointed mine at him the last thing i heard before the shot echoed off the walls was Eric's laughter And no one was around to listen.
Reason for writing:
going back to columbine...or jonesboro...or san diego...be
careful of people who get fucked with....told from dylan klebold's point of view
as the world turned
don't believe the media.
Birth sign: Aries
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Twan.