Random Killings

Desperate people inflamed by hate

Ruled by frustrated passion

Resenting all they see

So they grab a gun or maybe three

Take aim at others, randomly

Inflicting pain, inflicting death

Spreading chain reactions

Of deepest misery and vengefulness

And the commentators will wring their hands

And go on to say it’s not the guns

And it sure ain’t us

The hateful bile we offer up is just for fun

So when we say that its time to aim

We don’t really mean it

It’s just a game

But clearly things are going wrong

Hot lead flying in schoolyards

And all to make a specious point

About free speech and hate and fear

Underlined in blood

And drenched in tears

 

David Trudel  © 2012

 

 

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