"Put that down, son."

A loose-cannon

That’s what they called him

A loose-cannon

But that’s not what he was

He was smart and thoughtful

An introvert in a world of extroverts

Self over wealth

Of friends, that is

So who can blame him when

The darkness in his mind made friends of its own

It made friends

Made him make friends

Friends with a  razor

Friends with pain

But no friends in the extroverted world.

One day his friend

Pain

told him to share his friendship with others

And he listened

Pain made him grab the gun

Pain told him to take it to school

Pain fired the first shot

And the third

Hate made him fire the second

And Hate and Pain both made him fire the fourth

After a voice told him to

Put that down, son

But Pain did not listen

And Hate did not listen

And the gun turned on himself

When Hate spoke up again

Shoot, Hate said

And he listened

One last time

before he could listen no more