screams in the night
rise ever slowly
as the speed of
bullets increase exponentially
bodies fall keeping
time with the popping
over the music which
stops
like lemurs dropping
from the cliff
yet these are not
designated sacrifices
the air is not
purged of some offense
it is filled with
the smell of blood
damned and dashed
onto the stack of bodies
where is the gunman
who chose this flock
the harsh, insane,
unreasoning murderer
who has no story to
tell and cannot say why
many lay flowers
around the world
in honor of the
dead, a gentle gesture
of love and support
as the tears roll down their cheeks
we, as a country,
cry at the loss of life
so many lives, so
many innocent lives
and this is only the
first day
but morning and
mourning, is not good
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