yell at        yourself        all you want,
obviously, your brain wants to
tell you that oh,          nothing's       gonna get better
usually he'd be right here
                                 protecting              you

various emotions brewed in your mind (racing, hating, regretting)
if you had known
                before everything happened
(oh, it was horrible, everything just came
crumbling down, like a rock down a vast mountain)
                                                how
                                       suspicious 
if you weren't stuck in a trauma room (haha, 
get it, they think you're traumatized, ain't that a big HOOT)
there'd be some semblance of peace, something to hold onto
                     but look around, and all you can hear
              are the gunshots, two of them, ringing loudly
                          (bang bang, i got you shot down,
                 i'm so                                sorry)
           eventually (not right now, why can't it be right now?)
 he'd be okay, the thoughts seemed hollow and empty
despite how much you wanted to believe them, and
you         broke           down
          your parents would find you curled in a ball
on one of the chairs, crying silently to yourself