Something Called Freedom

How can I love you any longer
when all we do is fight
my children are dead
your children are dead
shot in their six-year-old heads
learning double digit subtraction
a sacrifice you accept
you willingly weep while you
make small caskets to fill
as long as no one takes your right
to make and fill large magazines too
for the kids of course
because without this second right
how will we protect them
from the bloodshed rising between us
in the name of something called freedom
a hideous demon
masquerading behind the face of a man

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