Blood on their hands.

 

As hearts are shot up and hearts are broken

the prayers roll in, praying to a token

god designed and aligned with men’s image

turning his cheek to ignore the carnage

as children run to hide and text and call

the poc-poc-poc echoes abandoned halls

absurd is life when tragedy beckons

cause a child was handed soldier’s weapons

while law-makers line their pockets and pray

to sir La Pierre and the NRA

their children safe, know nothing of the lie

where the right to kill trumps the right to life

while other children lie in dark boxes

held by shaky hands of parent corpses

when mass protests cover all front pages

yet corruption rules and nothing changes

giving thoughts and prayers while floors are soaking

and hearts are shot out, ripped up and broken

 

 

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