Crying the Rain

All the angels gaze down on the grief-stricken town where the passage of time does not deaden the pain; heads sadly bowed in the darkest of cloud, in chorus they’re crying the rain. What words can be spoken at hearts torn and broken to help them pick up the rhythm again? no rhetoric said can wipe out the dread, all together they’re crying the rain. In a nation gone mad, quintessentially bad, this tragedy leaves such a terrible stain; we support sport and fun and give monsters the gun then look shocked and start crying the rain. Are we so slow and dumb, or unfeeling and numb, will it take more than this one to render us sane? save all children such plight, ban all firearms outright, save the angels from crying the rain.