Time grows in small spaces,
Too much to hold,
Too much to care,
Fear enlarges greatly,
A feeling that takes out on others,
A massacre, a festivity,
Too much to stand.
A mother cries and another tormented,
Torn apart to shattered dreams,
So young....
An anger so destructive,
Kills the innocence.
Tears fall so many miles too far,
Why the young had to pay?
Some dead some injured,
Too many paid for uncommited crimes.
To young to understand,
A child spills roses onto the floor,
Once the gunshots were heard,
Their mothers rush in dismay,
Crying "Please don't let it be my child that falls dead."
A man in the middle also spilling tainted blood,
The one who shot thorns that pierced threw their hearts,
Not knowing , not caring for they were children.
Down he went under his own hands,
Down cryin nothing, no words not even tears,
Nobody knows or fears this man,
Not a soul thought he could kill,
Probably not even himself.
Did he meet his justice?
Dead, not caring for fear enlarged.
Taking too much space,
Hate followed kicking out love
And down went a family's precious gift with it.
Tanya Murphy 1996