how despicable
another life gone to waste
another prayer said for the dead
another moment gone away
the people they gather
their tears drop to the floor
everyone demands change
they ask for change
they ask for more
the president he turns away
he locks up his money in his drawer
he turns off the tv
he grooms his hair
he polishes his floors
he washes his face
he yells at the humans
who yell at him for change
it's the idiot that makes the violence
not the weapon
not the bullets
but tell me
if you take away his gun
would he be able to kill 17 souls?
tell me, Mr. President
why we have had hundreds of mass shootings
while our neighboring nations have stopped it at one?
tell me,
how you can look them in the face
and tell them we can only wait
and hope that something could change
when you hold the power
to keep the children awake
what heart do you have?
what heart do you not have,
how can you be so cold
to say this is simply the mistake
of a psycho man
a broken soul
our second amendment rights!!
you cry
but don't you know
the reason our children are being murdered
is because of the words
that are written within that very verse
No man should have the access
should have the right
to a machine that guns down children
a machine that strips them of their light
that shines so bright.
how simply ignorant of you
how cruelly selfish
to protect words that are killing thousands
words that were written
hundreds of years
before you were birthed.
something needs to change Mr. President
but oh,
how silly of me,
to think you had the heart to care
about the children of this nation
the heart to think
of others before yourself
the brain to realize
that somethings not working
to realize you can heal the murder
and prevent it from happening again.
twisted words
from your twisted greed
you plead you pray you demand some change
you paint the blame on the foreheads of the ones from over you reign
you lock up your paper
you tell them this is the mistake
of the people that should have acted
when the clock was turned away.
you type
how disgraceful
you type
how shameful
but at night you count the dollars
from the organization that propelled you forward
you don't care about us, Mr. President.
you only care about the gold
that builds your tower.
you don't care about their tears
or their painfully painted deep sorrow.
oh what a shame,
isn't it.
oh things
i hope they do get better.
but while you're sending your prayers
we're getting louder.
we will vibrate your buildings
we demand and grow power.
what a shame you belittled
you underestimated our rage
you should've thought twice about your actions
you overlooked our page.
no, it's too late, Mr. President.
nothing can be done.
the cut is too deep,
the damage
the blood
it's as red as the fire of the sun.
you sit back,
take your golf trips as you wish.
but next time your name is at stake,
you will remember our names
as they override your twisted
rotten
hypocritical
mistaken
fame.
~you're not ready for us
~and we're okay with that
a.e.g.
