i.
When I felt what you had done, disgust did not fill my soul, but shame ran across my body like goosebumps. The hair didn’t stick up from just my arms & legs, but from the top of my scalp. Vomit ran up & down my tonsils– you are not to be forgiven. I can picture the cement pressing against your hands, & even in your teeth– each time I grit mine, thinking of you. The glass, the shatter; your sins will catch up with you– & you must repent soon.
ii.
How dare you. Accuse me of overdramatizing your misdeed, while I watch you pretend it’s all child’s play; it’s not. Your sick laughter will echo among these walls as a form of cruel “fun,” & on Sunday mass, they will pray for God to send twenty thousand miracles to us. This was no act of teenage rebellion but chaos & anguish; you don’t care. The only thing that remains in my mind is your bloodthirsty laughter, barbaric smiles, & the brutality of the smash. My body collapsed from your “joke”.
iii.
You act as if you are harmless, pubescent, in need for some thrill– like you are not making waves in a community of care & hope. In the reflection of each shard of my mirror reflects time & effort; that you may be blind to, but they’re beautiful. So please, don’t go crying when the sirens start, red & blue flashing, acting as if you are the victim of your own actions.
Nobody can save you now, but yourself.