A kid makes a finger gun
With hammer thumb
To fire at passing traffic,
From the cover of his bunker bus stop;
In America he’d be an active shooter
****, they have names for it over there,
Here he’s just a ******* nuisance;
His shelter advertises a deodorant
Shaped just like and called bullet
Perhaps some subliminal message
Has entered his head
The power of advertising, the power of death.

For a deodorant that advocates love and attraction
It’s a strange message.

In an ideal
joy-and-happiness-society:
would people
not use guns
to **** each other?
Would malevolent people
not be allowed to have guns?
Would mentally-ill people
not be allowed to have guns?
Would children
not be allowed to have guns?
Would law-enforcement
use guns as a last-resort?

More wicked than *****, that ***** mourns
More evil than Satan, that Satan's justified
Lot, tormented in his soul, rescued
So shall it be the Righteous' lot
The Angel of Darkness shall descend
And ***** sits in Judgement seat

what are thoughts and prayers without exertion
give me a guideline on how to hide from a stranger
shooting up a grocery store
but ignore the warning signs of a mass shooter
buy me a bulletproof vest to send my child to school in
because we care more about the right to own a gun than the right to protect innocents
this is not about what the rights are for, but for what they are being utilized
we cannot have compassion for the wounded without outrage for the wound itself
we cannot be okay with avoidable tragedies for the sake of pride

I keep thinking;
if I look at the sky long enough,
I’ll have to see a shooting star,
and all my wishes will finally come true,
my heart will burst into a thousand butterflies,
while my body erupts like a volcano,
and all the anger trapped inside my lungs collapses like meteorites onto the earth,
the pain pulsing through my veins will dig itself beneath the soil,
finally leaving my body as its own.

I should have learned by now that there aren’t any “signs”-
Any sort of supernatural clues that hint I should make
      someone mine
And I should have guarded myself the first night we met
We saw so many shooting stars I almost lost count of them

I quadrupled the amount of shooting stars I’ve ever seen
And we laid so peaceful next to each other while you lost your
      falling star virginity
Not a single time that night did I think to make a wish
Because feeling loved beside you brought back the feeling I have
      missed

But that feeling and I soon went our separate ways
As I slowly noticed you weren’t eager to hang out most days
That I was that call when you were drunk or lonely,
An afterthought, and I was supposed to respect that completely.

Shame on me, you said, for saying the same way you treat me is
      how I am going to treat you-
That we can continue to be “back pocket” friends, tried and true
I never wanted being true to who I am to interfere with what we
      had,
But I couldn’t stay quiet while inside I felt so sad

You made me feel stupid and clingy for asking for your time
I felt like I was the idiot for trying to make you mine-
To be more than that guy you sleep with when you want someone
      to hold you
If I wanted this all to be casual, I just would have told you

And now at times I wish I wouldn’t have told you
How begging for your time made me feel so ugly and blue
I wish I would have gritted my teeth and stayed quiet
So that maybe in your own time you would treat me with respect

And maybe that’s what I should have wished for upon those
      shooting stars
That God would’ve kept you and I together or that he would
      prepare our hearts
To understand each other and love each other and work through
      our problems-
Act like adults instead of fighting and crying when you made us
      be done

I know what I’ll wish on my next falling star
That you would miss me or call me- not change who you are-
But that you being you and me doing me would work out in the
      end
That we could be together without either of us having to pretend

I hope that’s not too much to ask for- not suppressing my feelings
Or being able to speak my mind without having you hate me
Was it really necessary that you block me after you were offended
If you ever loved me the same, it never would have ended

But I refuse to compromise who I am or what I want
I’ll never accept less from a friend whether I love them or not
I guess what I learned is to never love someone until I really know
      em
And that’s why I write yet another sad poem

How many more children have to die
before we stop believing the lie that
America is safe
and America is great
and that we all live under the rule of a really great guy?
Before all our children don't need to vie
just to survive
going to school and coming out again alive?
Before mental disorders stop being the
brunt end of a joke
and that maybe there might be hope
that those who suffer don't have to walk on a tightrope?
What about when we can start living in harmony?
When we stop judging others and
start shunning dishonorary
acts of violence
acts of hate
and acts of crime before it's to late?
How many more children have to die?
How many?
How many?
How many?
How many???

-Spider