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Lamentation? I don’t know.

Another shooting. Another massacre. Children mostly. And we take it in stride, as we always do. We move on, not because we want to, but because we have to.

Lamentation? I don’t know.

The subliminal messages from our leaders, about not giving a hoot, have seeped into the subconscious of the populace. We are still aware, yet so numb to the shock and the pain which usually come at the news of the tragic shedding of blood and the loss of life.

Yesterday we use to roll on the ground covered in dust as our copious tears of grief mimicked the drip, drip, drip of the crimson essence of our humanity, but that was yesterday. There is no sackcloth and ashes as we grieve the ever mounting numbers of the army of the dead today

The young and the old. The Black, the Brown, the Red, the Yellow and the White. Men. Women. Girls. Boys. Babies. Mostly poor. All trampled under the stampeding hoofs of man’s inhumanity to man. The times, the places, the names of victims all translate into a mishmash of confusion. Another tale of sorrow written by the gun, with hot bullets on parchment of flesh.

Lamentation? I don’t know.

Another shooting. Another massacre. Children mostly. And we take it in stride, as we always do. We move on, not because we want to, but because we have to.

Lamentation? I don’t know.

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