There are dried up splashes of juicy orange wedges,
randomly splattered across my key board, no void in
the pattern, no victim.

Careless way to eat anything near an electronic thing,
citric acid bleeding into fine circuitry do not abide side by side,
with out someone losing interest.

Carelessness is a choice like loading a gun rather
than buying a Rolls Royce.  Putting a knife out of
sight, "just in case someone starts a fight" said
in the shadows of a fearful heart.

Guns and knives, guns and knives were only meant to
end lives, no self-defence, no, "sorry I won't let it happen,
again.", said by a teen with blood red-rimmed eyes but no
emotion.

Violence is a choice, poor man rich man matter naught,
you live and die in the lifestyle you sought, maybe got
more than you bargained for.

Cats have nine lives and I, like you, have only one before
the Great Hereafter, so I would rather spend it not crying
tears of grief and fill my ears with the sounds of my children' s
children laughter.  

Echoes of which, resound so, even the Heavens rejoice.