Saturday, April 14, 2012

Sun of a gun

A great invention
The gun became
No gruesome deaths
No one put aflame

No more crucifixions
No swords to be used
To chop off a head
Of someone accused

Bows and arrows
A thing of the past
For hunting prey
Just give them a blast

Their enemies
Lined up in a row
Each shot in the head
In the trenches they go

A bank robbery
Just show your gun
People will listen
They won't try to run

Disgruntled teens
Brought guns to school
Shooting the students
They thought were cool

The guns that you own
You need to hide
Children may find them
And many have died

By, Randee Saber 4/12/12