'Gun'

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I wouldn’t be surprisedIf I ever diedDue to arms belonging to my own kind But I know before I dieOnce I pray the pain subsidesI’ll have everything on my mind
Twisted thoughts on relevance,  Lost in the pinging,  Of  bullets hitting concrete,  Hitting you,  Hittine me,  Students scared to learn,  To live,  To simply be, 
Shout So loud the walls shake and the paint chips off in little pieces Decorating the blood on the floors And the blood in the hands of those who allow a child to possess a rifle
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