After
After the sirens fade
and the yellow tape is gone,
the street breathes slow again
as if nothing went wrong.
Neighbours close their doors,
windows shut tight,
no one speaks of the blood
that was here last night.
A mother wipes the floor
where her child once stood,
scrubbing and scrubbing
but it does no good.
The stain does not leave,
it lives in her mind,
repeating the moment
time left behind.
Morning still comes,
people go to work,
but under the quiet
the memory lurks.
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