There was a man, cloaked in a haze of mistrust

A mind like a misshapen puzzle piece to the world

A man anything but stable, anything but fine 

And society gave him a solution to all his problems

A gun in his hand, which was just what he needed

To satisfy the misdemeanor of his broken self

So he took his weapon, which was so easy to procure

He took it into the building, mind numbed to nothing

And he put little holes through little kids' hearts

He painted the carpets and walls with scarlet

And filled the halls with screams and sobbing

And he looked upon his twisted masterpiece

Then put a matching hole in his own flesh 

The last shot echoed through the building

Leaving broken people with what he had done 

That same day, perhaps, a mother would weep

Holding a photograph of her young child 

Who had been taken from her with this weapon

The weapon that society had so easily given 

One little object that can tear so much apart

That can take the smile off a person's face

And turn the memories of them into ashes

Innocent people wish for their loved ones back

They pray for the weapons to be taken away

To help heal the wounds of our own infliction

But society has been blindfolded, it cannot see