Short story v.1

Waking Up

As I lay there, in the middle of the hallway, in a puddle of my own blood, I wonder why this had happened. As the S.W.A.T team storms the building, I look around, and all I see is dead bodies and blood.
Could this really be happening? Who could do this? All I remember is hearing that first shot, and then running. Next thing I know, I’m laying here in my own blood. How could this be? It was just a month before this when there was a shooting at a college in Utah.
I was trying to conceive what had caused this to happen. Did he just want to copy what happened only a month before? Or did he really harbor these ill feelings? Nobody knew why Ian Mathews, everybody's best friend, did this, but we all felt almost sorry for him.
It was then, when I woke up screaming, palms sweaty, grasping my blanket, my mom sitting at the end of the bed. When I sat up, all she could do is hug me. She asked if it was okay. I told her I didn’t know. I said I had dreamed of a shooting, and my best friend had shot me. She then told me, that I may have dreamed that, but that it really did happen.
Right at that moment, when my whole world came crashing down on me like a barrel of bricks. I was so glad that it was just a dream, but to think that it was real, and that my best friend had shot me? How could that be? It wasn’t long after that, that I was diagnosed with depression, and paranoia. I always thought about what could go wrong, and lived in fear that it would happen to me again.
As I’m visiting his memorial at the graveyard, I see the tombstones of all those he took with him. It was hard to keep walking, almost as if the shadows of the tombstones of those he had slain were grabbing at my feet and holding on with a death grip. I finally got the courage to walk up to his grave. His tombstone read “Ian Chase Mathews, 1990-2009, he will be remembered.” I was sitting there wondering, what would he be remembered for, all the good times, or what he had done. I couldn’t do anything, nothing but cry. It was about a month later when we found out that his mother and sister were both killed in the college shooting only a month before.

1. Struggling with the ending, any suggestions?
2. It's sort of based of the colombine shooting, i was struggling with ideas, so i went on yahoo answers and they said write about a recent tragedy, and i didnt want to talk about the war, and this just kind of popped into mind, it doesn't sound like creepish does it? Like that i'm trying to say im going to do this? I get that feeling for some reason and thats totally not what im getting at

What i needed to say v.2

It’s Time

You always said everything was going to be okay,
That things will work and everything will be fine.
but it’s not.

I’m engulfed in questions.

Every kid wonders,
Is it my fault?
What happened?
Is there anything I can do?

I love my dad,
Nobody can replace him.
They all try,
But nobody can fill his shoes.

I won’t be happy,
I feel helpless,
overpowered,
overwhelmed.

But time has come,
It’s time,
I’m gone…..

1. This is just a generalization about all of my step dads and how they all try to fill his shoes, but fail. What else can I do to make it seem more poetic?

It's time- What I needed to say v.1

It's Time

You always said everything was going to be okay,
That things will work and everything will be fine.
Well it’s not.

We have many questions for you, mom

What happened to my dad?
Where did it go wrong?
Was it my fault?
What can I do to help?

Why do you keep meeting all of these horrible people?
Who treat us like dirt.
Do you not see that we suffer in silence?
I hate him.

We all hate him.
We hated the first one.
We hated the second one.
And I really hate the first one.

He causes the chaos in the house.
Why is it that every time things start to get better, it ends?
We’re sick of it.
Can you not just stay with one person?

I always wanted to tell you,
And now I am.
I never liked you choices.
I never understood.

Well now I do.
It’s fine if you choose them,
Them over us.

Time has come,
It’s time,
I’m gone…..

1. It was hard to choose a topic, but I think I found a good one, it’s about all my previous step dad’s, but what do you think I need to do to make it flow more, and sound more real.

Poem, "the operation"

The Operation
She is crying, on the end of my bed
I don’t know why.
I was told I may not survive,
I was one of a kind,
Only one person has ever had this before.
I don’t breathe as well,
I can’t hold my breath very long.
When I breathe deep, it doesn’t feel fulfilling
I can’t run, swim, or bike as long as I used to
When you see the scar, the first impression, is “WOW”
It’s still numb to the touch, so please don’t touch.

1. I’m stuck on how to word this, I know the idea, or point im trying to put out there but im having a hard time getting the right words.