Vacant Desks

Bullets thundered across the room,
Shells lie scattered underneath the chalk board,
Where chalks once would,
Blood flew like the river,
Faster than knowledge ever could,
And where there was once laughter and voices,
Silent tears echo loud,
Filled with anger and misery,
Sunken eyes look around,
In hope they could just see even a glimpse of their fallen friends,
The playgrounds lay vacant,
Recess isn’t the same,
Finally there is pin drop silence in the classes,
Yet the teacher can’t seem to teach,
There is quiet in the class but an absence of peace,
The teacher’s eyes too begin to wander,
The heart aches to spot the sight of that mischievous soul,
Or even the one that would be lost looking out the window,
For a second their eyes almost do meet,
But it is no more than mirage,
The desk still lie vacant,
Darkness reverberates across the floor,
Is this what we have achieved? 
To turn a block of wisdom,
Into a zone of probable death,
 26,000 and counting since 1999,
That’s the number of children that the guns haven’t spared,
It is true this earth has seen darker days,
But is this all the justification there is? 
Does owning a gun make you feel safe? 
Or is it just more of boost to ego,
That you are the biggest predator there is?
If you could open your eyes and see-
Most of these kids didn’t even get their opportunity to live,
And, you sit and argue on your right to bear? 
If they could speak from their graves,
Maybe then you would understand,
That no matter what the second amendment says,
You would never be able to fill those  vacant desks.