A blue name needled into the skin,
An external clue to the grief within,
A permanent reminder of those we lost,
Senseless actions with too high a cost.

The media men run with whatever they can air,
Without a pause or thought of what is fair,
Unfiltered opinions of nurtured ignorance,
Beyond the reach of half-hearted repentance,
Digging, digging a deeper,
The scattered dirt to tarnish the soul.

Too many focus on the what and why,
So much that they no longer hear the cry,
The son stolen from his parents’ lives,
Those who lost limbs and the paralyzed,
The student whose name is yet unknown,
All too young to be marked by stone.

The lost should never be pushed aside,
So on my skin they shall reside.