Shooting spree
Roads cross
Steeles/Yonge
He stands at the light
In his hand holds a sign
'Homeless, hungry
Please help, God bless'
Red is cap, white writing
With mustache; smoky
Eyes blue but hidden
Weak, blinks, has tear
Lips busy whispering
Too far for listening
He is a dot; ninety nine
Do you see; percent one?
I foresee, he or she
Knife in hand or a gun
With a note on the site:
'Shooting spree'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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