American Shootings Poem by Anonymous Gold

My name is Joe,
I'm seven and three quarters years old.
There was me expecting a puppet show,
What I'm about to tell you is untold.

Fourteenth of December twenty-twelve.
My life changed as soon as soon as the trigger was pulled.
Safest place in America they say,
It'll never happen to you they say.

A walking tower, dressed in black.
Bulletproof vest clearly on show.
Isn't that asking for trouble?
He was going for the kill.

It's all a blur.
Eighteen of my friends, my classmates,
Killed at school didn't get to see the light again.
Two got one last chance, but couldn't win the fight.

Six of my teachers.
My protectors.
Dying to save me.
My angels.

Innocence has been torn away he says.
No words that will ease their pain he says.
Our hearts are broken he says.
Hold a candle for the victims he says.

Make guns illegal I say.