You watch the sunrise through the stained glass windows
of the church you called your home
You see the colors dance across the quiet, dusty room
and fill the empty pews
On the streets, it’s not so bright. The cars drive,
their windshields full of sunlight
At night the lamps turn on, people sell themselves away,
drinking *****

It used to be a place full of happy people with good intentions
and bright minds,
until bullets shattered stained glass,
drops of blood stained the hymnals,
and screams filled the sanctuary
The sun has risen and you step back and turn around.
Safety is an empty word of false promises.
Nowhere is safe.