He was that quiet kid,
That sat in the back,
Got teased and picked on,
For all that he lacked,
He didn't play sports,
He didn't have friends,
All he had was an abusive dad,
He got punched at home,
Kicked in school,
When he had enough,
He brought a gun to homeroom,
Shot up the class,
Not just for the bullying,
But for his life that was just so broken,
Blood was splattered all over the floor,
The walls made an echo of screams and mourns,
He quickly ran home,
To a drunk dad,
Locked his room door,
And sat on the floor,
Held the gun to his head,
And shot till he was dead,
The quiet kid was a victim,
Then a murderer,
Yet who are we to decide his punishment,
We all have free will,
So use it wisely,
Before we all die while trying...
