For once, I’m really fond of something I wrote. o:

History’s bullets forgot about us
Lying awake at night, reminiscing about everything that could have been
Could have frightened us
But they were too scared to even look us in the eye when we came to knock
Barricades on their own doors, we wondered who came and who left
Who fueled the fires that compressed the chambers they kept the prisoners in
And what the tinder used was

It could have been our very own corpses.
We couldn’t tell you
Those walls broke us into shadows
Into thoughts and fears

Turned us into bullshit rerun programs
Into novels and memoirs.