“Mental illness and hatred pulls the trigger, not the gun”
The gun, sitting in his cell, eyes drooping whispers to himself, “I didn’t do it, I’m not the one who pulled my trigger.”
He remembers lying on the floor with his fellow guns forming the name Trump. Remembers wondering at the time what this Trump was. Now he knew. Trump was a manifesto, a manifesto of hate and racism.
He remembers screaming as the bullets flew, and the blood flowed. Screaming stop, stop, stop.
He wishes he could be melted down to be a hammer, plow, or school desk. But now he will live out his days in a dark cold box with only his memories of that terrible day, and his steel tears.
--Thomas R. Thomas
mas R. Thomas