The same images fill our eyes again and again
it happens all the time, but we never know when.
Can we finally ask the question
and demand a reply?
No one else has to die.
From the ground they have risen
to their graves they were led
difference in opinion and a bullet in their head.
it’s in my blood
that was somebody’s son.
The broken can only keep breaking
crippled down with our freedom for the taking.
See the pain, feel the fear
allow my heart to catch each tear.
Another face in the soil
that was somebody’s friend.
Breathe in the decay left behind
exhaling the ashes and numbing your mind.
Drawn from the dust and engraved in it
who could have guessed life’s an endless pit?
Another name on a headstone
that was somebody’s lover.
We can write all the words we want
spend our time searching for the right font
but how far can that take us?
Chaos strikes before we place the period
that was somebody we’ll never know.
Leave it unattended
painted as a surface wound
cover the blemishes with all the lies that have bloomed.
Another stand down, another explosion
from your eyes let leak all the commotion.
Take your finger off the trigger
place it on your pulse
and let your heartbeat tell you that enough is enough.
We are given one shot at life
stop using yours to put a hole in us.
This poem was co-written by myself and my friend Reagan. I can’t thank her enough for the time and effort she put into working on this poem with me. I’m really proud of the words we put together.