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