Their Innocence is Gone

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Their Innocence is Gone

Kindergarten children sit at little tables
With tiny plastic multi-colored chairs
Making chains with strips
Of red and green construction paper.
Holiday music plays in the background.

A stranger enters
Bang!
Their innocence is gone…
Screams, fears,
Running, tears
Sirens screech.
Parents beseech.
Death stained air-
Prayers for answers.
Families crumble.
President stumbles.
Anti gun deluge.
Press accuses.
Community mourns.
NRA warns.
Homicidal malcontent
Kills our most innocent.
Please, stop the violence!

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My Bones

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My Bones

My Bones don’t represent me.
You may look at my bone structure
And think you know my origins.

But,

My Bones don’t represent me.
You may be able to identify me by
The form of my teeth.

But,

My bones don’t represent me.
You may be able to look at my
Pelvis and discern my gender.

But,

My bones don’t represent me.

It is not my teeth but the gaps within.
It is not the size of my feet but what
Motivates them to move.

The firm white forms don’t reveal
My loves
My fears
My dreams
Or my victories.

Please never pay homage to my bones
When I am gone.
Because
My bones don’t represent me.