It’s past time for a rhyme

When the hands of a clock

Are stopped by a Glock

In classrooms and churches

And the shopping mall,

Shots fired, people killed

For no reason at all.

Speechmakers have worn themselves out,

Their words have little weight

We already know the score by heart,

We already fear our fate.

Voters ignored, funerals abound,

Neighborhoods undone by the sound

Of gunfire.

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