Page 93 of Pride

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We see it in the media.

When you all weep.

After driving them to take their life.

With words of hate that cut like a knife.

If we’d known the risk, then we’d do better.

We’d protect them, you say.

If we’d been kinder, they’d live to see another day.

Too little.

Too late.

Too broken,

to wait.

The ones who hurt the most are the ones who say,

I’m fine, I’m great, I’m doing okay.

And you accept it.

You’re glad.

You never ask yourself why,

the smile was wide, but the eyes said,

“I

Want

To

Die.”

The room fell into darkness again as he uttered his next verse.

“Arran was a quiet teen.

But his demons begged for freedom.

And the voices in his head,

told him, kill them all, leave them for dead.”

The spotlight came back on,illuminating him for all to see. He held a knife in one gloved hand and a rope in the other. And behind him flashed headlines of murder, using phrases such as ‘Planned Massacre’, ‘Hate Crime’ and ‘Horror Assassin’. And standing tall and proud, he exclaimed,

“Until one day he finds his power,

or the power, it finds him.

He won’t take it anymore.

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