Sad Story

All the reasons are unclear to me,
seems that anger always holds the weapon.
Somewhere another innocent life will be taken,
the lobbyists hide behind their rights again.

Some bought for protection of the home,
the intruders of the night.
Others displayed in great cases of wood,
in all the paranoia we lost our sight.

Rival gangs protect their turf,
streets become war zones of frustration.
School doors are set-up with metal detectors,
the collector still cleans his fascination.

The hunters move quietly through Autumn woods,
cross hairs of the scope move towards the wrong target.
Some are designed to kill the civilized animal,
cold and fast without regret.

The Constitution is written with the right,
a troubled wind blows through Old Glory.
Somewhere anger pulls the trigger again,
so is written another sad story.

© Harley

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