Drip. Drip. Drip.
Decibels no human ear can hear,
sights no human eye can see,
blood falls down his cheek
mixing with irate teardrops.
(The silent beginning of sweet revenge.)
His rage mixed with a silver bullet
could create a lovely concoction;
more than a poisoning taste,
a lesson that would leave holes
etched in one's skin.
The faces of those that mock him
are reflected in the silver bullet
he promises to use…
"Teacher, he has a g—!"
The innocent student's words cut-off by the gunshot;
the latest school shooting has taken place.
At home, his father beat him,
and at school his peers teased him.
They found he was such an easy target.
(But his gun proved that they were, too)
Pressure, stress, pain
everything that happened in his life
was overload on his brain.
His only trigger left to pull:
And he did just that.
…Broken legacies and empty school shootings
are ubiquitous in broken communities.
But instead of a hollow gunshot,
the clash of rusted nails on blameless flesh
could reverberate through their hearts;
resonating throughout the universe…
(If our lives would just illustrate Christ's omnipresent love.)
Hands could be tinged from pure bloodstains
instead of the blood of sins…
Universally, kids could defy their fates and destinies.
...Legacies everywhere would be changed.