Tick-Tock, Gunshot Poem by miranda shaffer

Tick-tock
Watching the clock
Couting the minutes,
Counting the
hours.
Tick-tock
Turn up the rock,
Muffling out all worldy
sounds.
Leaving nothing but the silent
sobs.
Tick-tock
Still watching the
clock.
Madness
creeping in slowly,
Down stairs
parents that smirk so
boldly.
Tick-tock,
They watch the
clock.
It's just a fit,
She'lll get over it.
What's not to like
About the job they
picked?
Tick-tock,
five minutes to
midnight
The music stops.
Gun shot.
No more
terrible tears,
No more
silent sobs
That
were drowned out by music.
So
loud
It shook the house.
No more having to be perfect.
No more having
tobe 'it'.
No more feeling doubt.
No more feeling sick.
They just
continue to sit,
in their chairs
downstairs.
Did she shoot her hand
again?
Probably.
Or was it her sisters doll, Ken?
Maybe.
But they
don't move.
Or even wonder about her.
She's fine up there,
In her
room.
After all,
She only does
what they want her to.