crimson-instability

The lazer pointer, a litte red dot. Hey, I can see it on your jacket. The teachers are yelling, Kids are running. What is going on? Something whizzes past my head. When I look up, you look funny. Your eyes are glazed. You fall over on the bench. What is going on? I turn and see three angry faces. One is looking at me The others intently watching From behind their automatics Aiming carefully around the room. Everyone has scattered, only a few remain. I am being approached, Glued to my seat, I gaze up into his face. Never before had I seen such sadness. For a moment, I am scared But for a moment. Then I remember your listl