"Put that down, son."
A loose-cannon
That’s what they called him
A loose-cannon
But that’s not what he was
He was smart and thoughtful
An introvert in a world of extroverts
Self over wealth
Of friends, that is
So who can blame him when
The darkness in his mind made friends of its own
It made friends
Made him make friends
Friends with a razor
Friends with pain
But no friends in the extroverted world.
One day his friend
Pain
told him to share his friendship with others
And he listened
Pain made him grab the gun
Pain told him to take it to school
Pain fired the first shot
And the third
Hate made him fire the second
And Hate and Pain both made him fire the fourth
After a voice told him to
Put that down, son
But Pain did not listen
And Hate did not listen
And the gun turned on himself
When Hate spoke up again
Shoot, Hate said
And he listened
One last time
before he could listen no more