The student news site of Los Altos High School in Los Altos, California


June 1, 2016

As a little kid, red was a picture perfect summer.

Sounds of the ice cream truck sent every kid in the neighborhood running

A couple of dollars could buy you any type of popsicle you desired;

I liked the red ones, where crimson lips would make

My sugary actions caught red-tongued.


Popsicles that dripped crimson on the sidewalk

Ants would flood the crime scene we created


Crimson like blood

Scraping our knees on the blacktop

Band aids shielded us from the pain we felt


Years later, red on the sidewalk

No longer meant melted popsicles


Amongst news of mass shootings

Red took on a different meaning

No longer was red the color of popsicle pools

In the blazing summer heat


Red was real


Band aids could no longer heal these wounds

People would flood the scene like ants

Holding on to the last breath of the child

Lying before them

The truth slipped between their fingers


Band-aids can not heal these wounds.

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