There's no place to start,
Excepting the ending maybe,
Where you're sure to feel the impact.
There's no one to talk to,
Except the tombstone maybe,
But you wouldn't get an answer.
And it was a Christmas present.
His father had left;
His mother, gone to work;
His brother, who knows where or how;
He had no idea,
Why they had left him alone.
And it was from his grandfather.
School was no refuge,
He was tortured and beat down,
Physically and emotionally
Standing five feet tall,
He was a "lame."
Barely over one hundred pounds.
Ridiculed because he was "ugly."
Nothing about him was right.
He was just a young boy,
Maybe fifteen years old,
He felt the pressure,
And the desire to die.
But he wasn't going alone.
He was taking them with him,
After all, it had been their fault.
And he knew he had it in his closet.
No fear inside,
No tears outside.
The chance to die,
Was all that mattered.
He held it in his hand,
It was just in those three shots.
That he accomplished everything he had ever wanted.
Now you see what happens,
When you give the boy a gun.
NOTE:The only reason why I said "MAY OFFEND" was because some people get really sensitive when it comes to the subject of guns.
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