In a room faraway
Tears to decorate
Warm hearts to say
There lives a fantasy
Cupped in his hands
Held to his breast
Finger on trigger
A hole in his chest.
The uniforms present
Megaphones and cold air
Echoes of tragedy
As to why he was there.
Screeching obsenities
Words draped in anger
A frustrated youth
That gunfire did shatter.
Always a good boy
Mothers immortal words
For a dead son now laying
Amidst the chill shivers
Of Winters cruel smile
As the uniforms clear away
The debris..the memory
That interrupted the world.