The Sale

Blood creeps behind the counter through a crack in the floor
To my hiding place
It is not my blood but it could have been.
If I was taller, blacker, different, shorter, paler, richer, poorer
It would have still been my blood.
But it isn't
None of those things matter to the hateful hatefilled
Only the blood on the floor matters
It flows stiffly along getting in the cracks and crevices stinking of metal
Staining the floor and the carpets
The shoe was leather, is leather
Might have been comfortable but that is not important now.
What is important is the blood so red and thick
Could be anyone's
It is not mine
Not yet.
Bullets are color blind
Bullets are not racist
Bullets are not prejudiced
Bullets just do not care
They do their masters will
That is to kill kill kill
I only came for that damn sale on shoes
50% off it said
That was a really good price
Cashier wont be taking my card
His head is missing
Blown away by the brutality of the day
So here I am hiding behind the counter
waiting to pay
Listening to death as it does its thing.
Wondering if I have any credit upstairs
Haven't prayed in a while
But I am praying now
For what?
More time maybe. Spared life
I just want to live
The blood has reached my face resting on the floor
I dare not move
It is not my blood
Not yet.