You want me to protect your kids.
I don’t want to protect your kids.
I want to teach them;
Reach them;
Read them books;
Show them to look deeper.
Maybe play basketball
When recess bells sing.
You want me to protect your kids.
It’s not my fucking job to protect your kids.
I didn’t get a “Being Bulletproof” degree.
I didn’t sign up for gunfights.
I’m here to educate and assess.
I’m not brave enough to brave attackers.
You want me to jump between bullets and
Your babies. I’ve got a baby at home too.
I’m making it home.
You want me to protect your kids.
You’re really going to make me protect your kids?
Not cops,
Who you’ll let off with a pass
When they refuse to combat mass
Shooters blasting us all brainless.
Blue lives matter more, I guess.
Not politicians stalling laws
That could protect kids.
You’ll only vote for ones that arm psychopaths.
They’ll support laws backed by
Blood money and AR-shaped business cards.
Not God, remaining remarkably
Absent, stunning silent as we keep
Knocking little white crosses into the ground.
It’s gotta be me?
You sure?
No one else better trained?
Prepared?
Willing?
Because I gotta be honest;
I’m none of those.
You want me to protect your kids?
Figure it the fuck out yourself.