but I've come close.
Everyday death looks me straight in the eyes.
I get ready.
I brush my hair and put blush on my pale cheeks.
I get ready
"This is how they'll remember me."
No one helps yet everyone cries.
Every day every person knows the danger of going to this place.
Every person knows that from 7-3 five days a week we feel unsafe.
People die, children die, people cry.
We pray that that's it, that was the last one.
It has to be the last one.
Every day I am forced to walk through those doors.
I have hopes of getting an education, but I know that that could easily be changed into a bullet through my head.
They tell you to dream big, and they tell you this is the country where people can become something.
They tell you to work hard, and they tell you that your future will be bright.
They don't tell you that you might not make it that far.
They don't tell you that the very brain that you use to dream could be stopped dead in its tracks.
And they would never dare tell you that money is more important than your ability to get an education,
or your ability to breathe.