Something feels dead
and hollow inside my chest
and all I can hear
is the echo of distant gunfire
and the pleading of future grief

how many more bodies
will find their spirits
ripped away by bullets
piercing holes through their flesh
how many more lungs will burst
by the pop of gunfire
how many more hearts
will be poisoned by
the taste of lead
then no longer move

the only thing more endless
than the violence
is the debate of do nothing
or do even less
than nothing
and we all wear the target
of the wrong place
at the wrong time

wishfully thinking
it can’t happen here
even though it is
painfully obvious here
is now everywhere

I try to listen for anything
alive inside my chest
but all I hear is the echo
of distant gunfire
and the pleading of future grief