Poem about Gun Violence

So what is it we grace?
The way you connect your top most fingers
and point them at my face.
You’ve drawn on guns,
but it is not guns for hands that scares me,
It's your plans.
The way so many abused minds bloom
with such an urge to shoot up schools,
but what are we if not abused,
but what are we if not abused?
We may be simply dolls in the government’s playtime,
but what I see is so many people,
pumped up full of life,
but you wanna pump ‘em full of bullets.
Every classroom to you
is like a ripe, rich fruit
that you wanna rip apart
and let it bleed away in your hands.
When I see the Supreme Court,
sitting there,
smiling at me,
I see nobody but cowards,
following a cheat sheet,
a constitution,
their humble excuse for the deaths.
I watched my fellow students die,
I watched as their bodies were swollen and dried.
I watched a country full of brilliant young minds
be crushed by either death or fear.
I do not answer to the terrorists, it’s not my responsibility,
you are on your own.
Tears bloom buds in a flower bed
better than bullets do.
While you all wade through washed wheats
I’m sitting here
building mirrors from shattered glass
to point out the foggy reflection of myself,
and how I fit in an American dream.
What are we if not the structure of our country,
what are we if not the bricks?
While we may be broken by bullets,
we are only bruised by stones and sticks.
How can we possibly build ourselves up,
and break through this steel wall?
Now, my shoulders bend over,
holding this burden of a weight.
But I will not bend to the beast.
We will not be your victims for much longer.
But, when we are,
we have nothing to do but hide
behinds wooden desks
in a classroom
which windows are not bulletproof.
Who are the victims if not afraid,
Who are we if not too afraid to speak?
Who are we if not tearing ourselves apart over broken bodies and tissues?
Who are we not overwhelmed by these issues?
I watched my mother cry
over a stabbing in St. Paul.
I watched my sister’s smile fade
over an asinine thing
that we cannot control at all.
I am not convinced
that we will break,
but everyday,
321 people are shot in the United States.
And we’re busy worrying about our differences.
I watch as laws bloom up
preventing this and that,
preventing people’s identity,
I watch them start to make their approach,
away from the south,
rolling up the Great Plains.
I’m trying to pull us up,
us, as a country can recover.
Now I’m tripping over my words
Now,
children are afraid to go to school,
and they’re talking about giving teachers guns,
guns, guns, guns!
forget guns for hands,
these people have guns for minds!
guns for words,
it’s the only word they know.
And the never hold back on using it,
because they seem to be spitting it out
every time they speak.
Shooting bullets with their voice,
oh,what has our world become?
But I believe we can bounce back.
For there is always room to build up,
only if America doesn’t cry out,
and award themselves and cowards.