People justify the bloodshed

by saying red will make the flowers grow.

But the flowers only grow over the graves

of those whose metallic blood

plants nothing but thorns of outrage.

Their graves are

watered with the tears of the mourning,

fertilized by media,

and planted by those that shout

“Red will make the flowers grow!”

But in the end the flowers wilt,

the planters are forgotten,

and the fertilizer is washed away

by the rains of the mourning

that never seem

to cease.