A world gone mad

Heart is heavy

Fingers stiff

Words left me

Numb with pain

As pundits debate

It people who kills

Not soul less guns

For scores it is

Irrelevant now

They will not hear

Nor see

As their blood

Is cleaned

Their blood wiil

Not stain the hands of those

Nor their souls

As they immerse on

Sending their heartfelt sympathy

To those whose hearts will not heal

Deep are the holes

Left by the absence of their

Loved ones

As instigators

Discuss animately about the skill of

Putting the eighteenth hole

Some one somewhere may be plotting

Mayhem, to riddle the chest

Of innocents

With bullet holes

And the saints will march in

Singing the virtues of

The second ammendmant

And defend the sacrosanct rights

Of those who pick up the guns

After all, it’s people who kill

Not the guns

Rest in peace dear departed

May be what comes next

Is better than

This world gone mad