Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Little ones with guns
How are those shots heard?
Not by a single word! 
Sirens came down the street
I ran as fast as my feet 
Can take me to were those sounds are
Police car lights shined like a star 
Mounted on hopes of helping strangers heal 
But to me they have no appeal 
Expecially when they are dead bodys 
Everywere live ones to 
But very few 
Know the pain the little ones 
Went through
Death is no descriminator it takes all
When are you on its call