The Bullet

While I sleep tonight, I think of the angels

Who left this earth towards heaven’s gate

What would they remember of yesterday?

The prayer at school? The food in the box?

The homework to do? The games to play?

The fond kiss and hug their mother gave?

Or their father’s pat and  good bye wave?

If they knew this world was such a place

Where terror spreads in a thousand ways

More than love and peace and harmony

And all that good their teachers taught

In those hundreds of stories and lessons

Hours every day, all untrue, all unreal

What would remain in their memories?

Maybe that one bullet that ended it all.

-R-