But I do not dare,
Challenge that penetrating gaze,
Her crisp dress of white,
Contrasts sharply in the light,
With the blood from her lips,
And from her fingertips,
She admonishes, “Be aware,”
From the past she stares,
Remembering the students running,
And the gunman’s cunning,
Herding the hostages up the stairs,
Having caught them unawares,
Fingers clutched, she is still tense,
None of the shots made much sense,
So she sits with angry glare,
Remembering all that happened there,
A portrait changed by the artist’s flair.
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