2 weeks before Christmas.
9:35 a.m and a door is opened, a mouth is shut. Gunshots.
A teacher protects.
Bullets pour down like acid rain. Gunshots.
Call 911. She will die to protect you.
Gunshots, then silence.
20 desks will be empty tomorrow.
Rescue too late.
Close your eyes. Hold hands, they said. Don’t look at what you’ve left behind.
“Our hearts are broken today,” America.
26 will never sing, never balance checkbooks, never vacuum a floor, never walk on the moon.
Sunday night. 7:09 p.m, and red is the only color of the rainbow he can taste.
A pack of skittles, an Arizona tea, and a man who sees the color of skin, not soul.
Call 911, but they don’t protect you.
1 will never sing, never balance checkbooks, never vacuum a floor, never walk on the moon.
Friday and its 12:38 a.m.
A birthday, an anniversary, a pregnancy, and a midnight movie all gone wrong.
Eyes choked with tear gas and a man who thought he was the Joker.
12 will never sing, never balance checkbooks, never vacuum a floor, never walk on the moon.
Every day 289 will never sing, never balance checkbooks, never vacuum a floor, or walk on the moon,
but you tell me
that the second amendment means,
that having a weapon, a weapon designed for streamlined murder,
is your fundamental right?
Please tell me then
Where is our right to personal safety?
How do I feel safe
When I never know if I’m a walking target
Or just lucky this time?
How do I feel safe
When cars are more regulated
When mental illness is a stigma
Instead of a treatable disease,
And when checking a background
Before handing out a lethal weapon
Suddenly became an invasion of privacy?
Understand, i don’t want to take your gun away
Really, I don’t want your gun.
I just want my blood to run coarsing through my veins,
Not onto the pavement.
I want my children to go to school
To learn how to create,
Not how to destroy.
And I want to stop feeling
Like all the stripes on the American flag
Should be red.
So please- don’t shoot- just listen.