Do you know of what raging bullets do to flesh?
They shatter bone; as a sledge-hammer smashes glass.
Skin is gone. Muscles shred. No intact organs left.
Bullets paint the walls in pink; beating hearts collapse.

And it is not from merely one they steal last breaths.
The bullets steal all life from those we cherish most.
‘Tis our children that we see, gunned down to their deaths.
We see them wand’ring in our sleep, our children’s ghosts.

How many hundreds of our young must be gunned down
Before we end this shitstorm you call thoughts and prayers?
Under desks kids hide, you’re amused, as if by clowns?
You merely wave your hands, a useless grim affair.

You love your guns, ‘tis clear, far more than our children,
So proud you must be, your sacred guns have killed them.