Colombia's Plight

by Katybug

Violence danced
in our pueblo.
Senora Montero's
screams
were gunshots
to my hands
and feet.

Hot lava
erupted
in my limbs -
I writhed
in bloody
dirt.

Someone carried me -
tasting pain…
Where's Papa?

When Tia says
I'm lucky
to be
alive,

I don't respond.

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