That shriek like someone ripped a seam

That shriek, like someone ripped a seam

in the ordinary, calm day.

It woke you from some half-sleep dream,

then chased you, heart-first, on your way.

Out to the cold, everyone there,

with coats pulled tight and faces stark.

Just standing, breathing frozen air,

waiting for someone to make their mark.

Then the word, 'Drill.' Just a test.

And all that fear, it shrinks, it dies.

Leaving you hollow in your chest,

with nothing but the quiet lies

of that red box, staring, knowing, still.