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Jun 2016
A sickness we make excuses for
Is not a sickness but a love

We can never have enough
We always beg for more

And this violence is not a symptom
But the disease

When we ignore weeping pleas
As bullets and bodies flee wicked gunman

The only medicine
That can do the work

To rid us of this ill-loved curse
Is total acceptance of all our kin

So won't you join me
And give up the gun

Take up this love
Have love for the weak
Written by
Bison  26/M
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