The reddest rose’s petals still fall
when Tommy Winter comes to call.
He broke your favorite China doll and
buried her in a shoebox coffin.
Crocodile tears for bits of porcelain
that never will be whole again.

Tommy gets his jollies killing virgins.
Everyone around him wears a frown.
You wouldn’t pet a rabid dog,
so don’t let Tommy follow you home.
He’ll always find a way to put you down.

Grow up too fast,
bypass a dream,
desire to see the dream fulfilled.
A rosy notion,
a grand idea,
of what the future will be like.

Desire for love,
and legacy,
desire to love with all your might.
A pretty doll,
A source of pride,
an extra smile on the Christmas cards.

A helping hand,
a caring presence,
guaranteed for you in the twilight years.
A chance to fix
the past’s mistakes,
to do it better than your parents did.

Or else a gift
for a job well done,
a thank-you for your parents’ love.
Or just because
it’s what you do
when ticking off fulfillment’s boxes.

The pride, the joy,
the love, the hope,
the passing on of family names:
The selfish burden
placed on children
by those who never ponder “should.”

If I’m honest with myself
sometimes I miss you,
or the person I thought you would be.
But I remember all the things
you did to break me
and I’m not sorry we don’t speak.
If I saw you again,
I’d like to think I’d keep walking.
I hope you’re miserable and you can’t sleep.
After all give me a reason
you should get to be happy
when you did everything you could to kill me?

It’s nights like this I know we’re doomed
To howl our madness at the moon
Without ever thinking a change of tune
Might spare us the fate we’ve built ourselves.

You cannot be a Lone Wolf
When politicians, pundits,
A National organization,
Half a damn nation
Stand behind you in silence.

Propping up your arm,
Financing the gun in your hand,
Taking aim with their shouts
Of “2nd amendment, stand
Your ground!” Regardless
Of the harm.

We tolerate the violence
Against schools full of kids,
People out with their friends.
Are we just desensitized?
Don’t worry about what’s on screen.
It’s what’s in the theatre itself
That kills you in the end.

Liquifies your insides,
Hot metal through your skin,
Muscles, bones, organs,
Then out the back again.
Where’s your right to bear then?

But keep your damn guns I guess,
It’s worth an accidental death
Or a massacre or four,
Or more.
A human life is worth less than
the tools made to take it,
And we never learn our lesson.

God bless ‘em.
Don’t come crying to me next time,
Damn right there will be a next time.
And you’ll all be guilty as sin,
Just as guilty as him.

Just remember when it’s done:
He may have fired it alone,
But you handed him the gun.