Mass Shootings Courtesy GunViolenceArchive.org

Sean was doing dishes,

in a fit of anger broke a few.

Didn't like this kind of work,

wasn't what teens like him do.

But his father had left,

just as soon as he was born.

So his mother had to work,

and leave him home alone.

With no father to guide him,

he got in scrapes at school,

finally, just had enough, and,

quit. Wasn't no school fool.

Sean's mother told him straight,

"You have to work now, son.

Gotta earn your keep here.

I can't be the only one."

Lied about his age,

and got an entry job,

at the Gilded Corral,

from a big fat slob.

With money in his pocket,

Sean bought used video games.

At a nearby local flea market,

played them along with other things.

He became a champion marksman,

and when he got Spec Ops: The Line,

Sean knew what he wanted to do,

it was just a matter of time.

Went to the Navy to become a SEAL,

the recruiter told him, "You need to,

grow up son, go back to school,

no videogame, this is the real deal."

Went to the Army to become a Ranger,

and the recruiter scoffed at him.

"Get your scrawny ass out of here."

Sean felt like he'd taken it on the chin.

Really hated working there.

With all those fat people coming in.

Fellow workers taunting him,

pushing him further out on a limb.

When the manager yelled at Sean,

embarrassed, in front of all the crew,

he pitched a fit, broke a few more,

was fired and escorted out the door.

Couldn't tell his mother,

that he had lost that work.

He had no other prospects,

felt like a hopeless jerk.

At the flea market there was a guy,

who sold guns and ammo cheap,

he had gathered on the sly,

to anyone the secret would keep.

Sean knew what he had to do,

he had to make a big splash.

His life was just in shambles,

he could fix it with his stash.

He bought an AR 15 and some clips,

some body armor and ammunition.

In his mind he was now a commando,

man living up to his mission's ambition.

Sean felt the weight of his gun,

back in his small apartment room.

Vowed to himself to get even,

The next day, right at noon.

Hardly got any sleep at all,

planning it in his mind.

By morning he was ready,

knowing it was his time.

Taking the alleys on his way,

no one saw him coming.

The parking lot was full,

between the cars running.

Surprising those walking in,

he swiftly blew them down,

they were just fat slobs anyway,

not worth a smile or frown.

Through the door he marched,

his gun blazing rat a tat tat!

Killing those behind the counter,

and nailed that fat manager rat.

Then, to the customers cringing,

on the floor or against the wall.

He sprayed them generously,

hoping to kill them all.

Sean heard the sirens coming,

and left the bloody mess behind.

He had a new foe facing him,

of the real commando kind.

He started shooting up police cars,

and they were shooting back.

He didn’t feel the bullets hitting him,

just heard them crack, crack, crack.

Sean was on the ground,

the sky was spinning above,

his commando days were over,

there was no heroic love.

Copyright © Ronald W. Hull

10/17/22

You can read and print this poem at my website

here.