It starts off as just some fun,
Until someone like you pulls out a gun,
Or maybe you pull out a knife,
And try to end someone’s life,
As they lie there, dead on the ground,
And then your heart begins too pound,
Then you say, ‘What have I done? ’
‘Why did I ever pull out that stupid gun? ’
‘Why did I do it? It isn’t right’
Then here comes the red and blue light,
They take you down to a prison cell,
And you feel like your now in hell,
Then your sentence is life in jail,
You have to spend your life behind a rail,
It started off as a bit of fun,
Until you pulled out that stupid gun.
(More children each year are being killed in gun and knife attacks, this needs to stop!)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem