Perhaps it was destruction

The world is now a place,

Where we could no longer call home.

Perhaps it was destruction,

Or the dignity on the floor.

She was raped at four,

He held her little wrists so tight.

She cried and yelled and begged,

But he was no match for a fight.

He attempted at seven

Took his father's pills that night.

His mother held her fragile son,

The longest, silent, quiet ride.

Her parents were abusive,

Bruises up until her thighs.

She became immune to pain,

Had heard their "loving words" as lies.

A classroom filled with students,

The gunshot took their lives.

They fell one by one to the ground,

While endless sorrow thrives.

Perhaps it was destruction,

It was indeed right on the floor.

The respect and basic manners,

They're locked behind the door.