POEM - How many more souls of innocence must be plucked
From the seats they occupied to learn, not to be slayed
By the sudden intrusion of bullets zipping past their ear
Into the flesh of a new friend they confided in this year?
How many more protectors must collapse under the weight
Of failing to defend their own brood from the worst fate?
How many more educators must divert from their final class
To offer their body as a meat shield through which shells pass?
Classmates' last screams before slaughter will perforate silence of night
Just as bloody hues of fresh gore will intrude upon future sight.
One by one, "trendy" tragedies slip from our minds,
But still there are those who will never escape the rewinds.
If a nation rests dormant in the face of domestic mass murder,
It's no wonder history repeats itself; we need our young subverters.
Maybe it is lust for funding that tears moral principles asunder,
Yet goldmines of human potential are now buried six feet under.
We are cubs fenced into a field where the sign that reads "NO POACHING"
Is merely a suggestion—see, our hunters keep approaching.