The Gun

Only a week had passed
Since the tragedy occurred.
76 innocents on the isle,
Visited by the Devil's acquaintance.

Gun toting,
He slaughtered the prodigies,
Lambs that were faced by a wolf,
Dressed as a shepherd of the law.

The world wept,
Sharing the pain of losing
a few, but too many,
Promising pieces of our future.

A future we need,
And a future that was stolen
from them.
Cruelly early.

It was said afterwards
That there was little hope for them,
The attack was something no-one could have forseen,
And the gun was powerful.

Now I sit,
In my tent, far away.
Surrounded by two thousand youths,
As a young teen fires his toy BB gun.

The sight
leaves a bitter taste on my tongue,
The
pop
pop
pop
of plastic pellets,
Sending shivers down my spine.

Adults admire
the ignorance of youth,
Whereas I,
In my youth,
Turn away in disgust.