Troubled With A Gun by Carol Robson.

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Troubled With a Gun

They have a gun
shall they have fun?
Pop-pop, pop-pop
here comes the strop.

Disillusioned,
disturbed teen,
time to be mean
an outsider driven by pain
going down the drain.

Spat on, put down,
shunned.
Parents – peers
will be gunned.
Notice me!
my hatred fuelled campaign.

Who takes blame?
Inflamed communities.
Media and Films,
the reason
an untimely hunting season.

Look within,
clues are there,
out of childhood,
without care
lack of love
no affection
no one listened.
Questions asked,
the day,
bullets glistened.

Clock runs its course
cops arrive,
now in force
bearing witness,
blood stained hellhole.
Their final act,
ends life,
another troubled soul
gone,
no answers.

© Carol Robson 2014

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