Every town —
We’ll say it could be any town,
until it has affected every town,
and we all bear the same scars and pains.
Our circle of life, our cycle of shame,
on high alert from the moment we wake.
New brothers and sisters every day,
a family held together by grief and heartache —
bound not by a joyful, warm embrace
but by cold, heavy, miserable chains,
each link tallying those sent to the grave
by men armed and drunk with rage.
Every school —
We’ll say it could be any school,
until it has affected every school,
in this country where our students are trained,
as tiny soldiers who use desks to shield from the rain,
the hail of bullets that fly once again
in American classrooms where no one is safe.
Campus lawns scarred by pathways,
as the masses flee and frantically strain.
The goal of returning home is no longer mundane,
but for some this struggle will be in vain —
Another American campus forever bloodstained.
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