'Gun Violence' 'rights' 'society' 'politics' 'march for our lives'

Learn more about other poetry terms

Why is it a popular opinion that anyone under the age of thirty doesn’t know what they’re talking about?
I am of the youth One with such a small voice But though I cannot cast a ballot I can still scream, and think like any other I still have the right to make my own decisions  
I was twelve years old when the Sandy Hook shooting happened. 
Guns Gone Wild The sound of not so distant gunfire rings in my ears I’ve been hearing these sounds for years But they don't seem to quit
Guns. They have become the sleepless immortals in our country. The instrument leading to too much blood spilt. The goodbye 17 students never got to say.
The children of the future are dying Yet not one of our leaders are trying Is it such a crime to put out gun laws You rather not admit about the country’s flaws Do you see the children dying
Rest In Peace I find myself saying again After another school shooting. It physically hurts to see the crying of children on TV Like they were the story the news just had to have.
Twisted thoughts on relevance,  Lost in the pinging,  Of  bullets hitting concrete,  Hitting you,  Hittine me,  Students scared to learn,  To live,  To simply be, 
Footsteps thumping, loud bangs, children screaming, My pulse is racing, my head is pounding, and then suddenly I drop. I lay there choking as I desperately try to hold on for life.
Dear the Future, Can you see us? Can you see the wounds, Can you see the deaths, Can you see the grief, Can you see the fear? Do you remember us? Do you know how many fear the future?
Subscribe to 'Gun Violence' 'rights' 'society' 'politics' 'march for our lives'