Victim Blogpost#5

What is experience? Being in the present.

I was present at the time, the night it happened.

Assumptions of isolation were uncalled for as I am omnipresent.

A witness to the crime, a loose end you cant tie.

I am a never ending experience, I am the third person who observed.

The act of taking a life, shunned upon by religion and morals.

Yet, the gun went off and so did the casing. Piercing through flesh like butter;

He fell. Fell along with the casing, meeting together at the finish, me.

I felt his weight lean against me as the gun howled into the murky skies.

Loud enough to wake the neighborhood and all the life around.

Her first reaction was human, her second was a common mixture of instinct and fear.

She ran, ran into the night, further and further away from me.

Further away from the victim and the witness, leaving him to bleed.

Bleed onto me, smearing me with the vitals of every human. 

Slowly fading into the great dreaming, to join his lost loves. Oncoming death.

The more she advanced away, the more I felt his weight.

I became his last touch, he would no longer experience after death.

She ran but the moon overheard the approach, the ever seeing moon glanced.

Glanced upon her with a frown. Creation being killed. I wasn't the only witness.

The skies, the birds, the animals, the trees. She gave no regard and sprinted.

I remained in the distance, watching her fall out of my sight.

Holding onto the victim and the casing, the evidence of murder.

But what was I doing? Nothing. Apart from experiencing helplessness in potency.

I was unable to move a finger, struck in trance of what I experienced.

Unable to help, unable to move and unable to utter a single cry for help.

Unable, unable. That word described me at present.

He was dying in my arms and there was nothing I could do about it.

I yearned for help, I wept without shedding a tear.

My prayers were answered by the sirens of an ambulance rushing towards me.

Perhaps they can still save him. But I couldn’t.

Why? Because I’m just a street it happened on that night.

A murder happened and I am 22^nd street.

A witness to the crime, holding onto the victim with blood pooling around me.

I was a victim as well that night, a victim to helplessness.