deepundergroundpoetry.com

they shot a guy at the end of my street

I was twelve years old the last time
I held a gun
I donít know what I was shooting at
but Iím sure I missed
and the kick back from the rifle
left me so bruised
I never wanted to hold a gun again

Thereís a gun in the house
in a safe, Ďcause thatís the law
and I know it hasnít seen the light
of day in more years than I can remember
no one here hits the range anymore
and Iím not sure of the point of it
but itís still there
out of sight, out of mind

The cops shot a guy at the end of my street
he died and was shipped back to New Zealand
and no matter how I look at it
I canít help but feel he didnít have to die

And if weíre being honest here
it hits too close to home
because that way things are
that could be my family
on the worst day of our lives
if things keep sliding downwards
and I could be the one left grieving
for someone that didnít have to die
my distrust for the law
turning to fury and unimaginable pain
because someone thought to arm
people with guns theyíve been trained to kill with
rather than incapacitate

Cops carry Tasers for a reason
if only theyíd learn to use them
instead of pulling a trigger out of fear
for their own lives
when last time I checked
theyíre still toting
the ďprotect the peopleĒ line

I was twelve years old
the last time I held a gun

Iíd hate for someone to die
staring down the barrel of one

© Indie Adams 2014
Indie
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Page_Writer WomanofDayandNight
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