The wind carries on a spell-dazed sigh
As the reflections of the faces of people go by
And I carry my form to the twisted building gate
Of mechanical eyes and ears in the school I hate
So the door leans ajar in a cavernous blue hall
And the linoleum floor sparkles and I feel quite small
Letting a giant in the authoritarian music band thrive
As his gunshot cigars remind an evil left alive
A careless whisper hangs on a thread of wonder
But the love in some eyes could all crash down like thunder
For the bullet does not care about a future or past
As an iron-tipped bird flies to deliver me at last
I float past buildings that were not made for me
They watch me go by; do tell how they could see
That I left the school with a wing’ed sly grin
But now I fear that I have deserted my own skin
So splendid days are here indeed
As here in Heaven an AR you’ll never need.
A poem dedicated to every school shooting in history.
