Shreds of Seventeen

It started with the screaming,
Always the screaming.
Always letters too big to hear and too small to matter -
Expletives are no longer less than the sticks or the stones
Instead fired like bullets across an empty field.

We've been here before.
Heard the war stories brought back from survivors
(The world looks different when the blood of your enemies was too far away to see without squinting)
But the blood of your comrades is squeezing its way through your fingers.
I never asked which was harder to wash off,
Or if sanitizer was the only answer -
Rubbing alcohol the only air freshener
Doing nothing but stinging.

Do the bullets really pierce?
Or is it just the surprise that kills us?
We're all invincible until we aren't.

The screaming doesn't end until you finally understand this.
The screaming never ends, doesn't end until you do.