Kacie B. Sharpe

Poetry, short prose, & general musings.

American gun.

116 bullets 

3 minutes went by 

Semi automatic rifle 

Terror to our lives. 

——

Children hiding under pews

Little bodies lying flat 

Like they had practiced 

Sweet lives under attack. 

——

Shield the windows

Armor the doors 

Hand teachers a weapon 

Practice dropping to floors.

——

Add fences, barbed wire

To the perimeter of play space  

To keep out evil men 

Seeking notoriety— their place.

——

Why do we allow

Access to a machine

Causing such horror 

Imagine this scene:

——

Parents who no longer

Can put their child to sleep 

Students scared of windows 

We weep. We weep. 

——

The American’s gun

Who could have foreseen? 

You have captured hearts

Armalite 15

——

Our children’s blood cries out

Please value us more

Than owning a weapon

Designed for war.