I see their faces every time I turn on the television or internet;
inundated with stories of their parents--
grieving, asking for help;
wanting to prevent any other children from the same fate that befell theirs—

the senseless carnage,
the sound of empty casings  hitting the floor—
some bullets enveloped in the soon to be carcasses
of dead children, wanting their parents,

wanting the nightmare to end;
not knowing or understanding;
soon there will be no pain—
just darkness.