On the off chance that I bite the dust in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A container solidified in time,
A depiction of how I was.
On the off chance that I kick the bucket in a school shooting
I'll never observe my canine again.
She will sit at the front entryway
Sitting tight for me and pondering,
Why I never got back home
On the off chance that I pass on in a school shooting
I'll never move on from secondary school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Held back before their objective,
Missing years that ought to have been
In the event that I bite the dust in a school shooting
I'll never observe my mother again.
She will sit distressed,
Arranging a burial service
For a youngster taken from her.
On the off chance that I pass on in a school shooting
I'll never observe my companions again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One void seat among them,
A consistent indication of their misfortune
On the off chance that I kick the bucket in a school shooting
I'll never observe my younger sibling again.
She will sit through secondary school
Knowing I can't manage her through,
That she needs to make sense of only it
On the off chance that I bite the dust in a school shooting
My school will be recolored.
Pools of understudies lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the block structures,
Characteristics of death ground into it.
On the off chance that I kick the bucket in a school shooting
Everybody will don dark.
They'll send their contemplations and petitions
To a town defaced by death,
Everlastingly to be the home of a shooting.
On the off chance that I kick the bucket in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or on the other hand will I wind up one of hundreds
Of children who need to kick the bucket?
What will it take?
On the off chance that things proceed with along these lines
Youngsters should live in fear.
They'll investigate their shoulders
Continuously stressed and pondering,
In the event that they'll bite the dust in a school shooting.
