Enough
Every bullet that finds its mark
is one universe less that sparkles,
one ingredient shorn
from the collective dream.
Every drop of blood
tears a scar in time,
you can hear god’s anguish
in every scream.
Every loved one lost
leaves a lasting memory,
but the good times now
shall be stained with pain.
While there’s some find fault
in the strangest places,
those with love see clear,
there’s only hate to blame.
Every time this happens
there’s a call to action,
but the cries die down
as the noise creeps back.
Every guised assassin
posts a trumped-up caption,
so the sides keep bickering
their pointless chat.
There’s a lost soul
sitting in a room now, planning,
full of evil notions,
and a will to maim.
Do we really need to watch another
light go dark,
before we find our shared humanity,
and enact some change?
