A Massacre Poem by Jorge Alexandre

A massacre has occurred,
The devil, the gun,
The dead: so young.

The funeral rite is read,
Aloud; with a voice of tempest,
Its as though the sound; the voice,
Blocks all daylight from sight.

The melancholy;
Hundred slaughtered; wretched beings,
In this we see what we are seeing,
And in the requiem song,
We sing what we are living.

A sheep to a shepherd,
With the gunpowder slowly imploding,
We are breathing, we are dying,
Time is ticking, people crying.