Night fell upon Newtown on a chilly morning in December,
A day that everyone there will always remember.
Principals, teachers, mothers and wives,
Young boys and girls with big playground eyes.
Two to the chest, one to the head,
bang-bang-bang, they were all dead.
Nevermore the pitter-patter of 40 little feets,
Bouncing off the walls in the halls like joyful drum beats.
They sleep softly now under the dirt.
Their bodies buried, but not the hurt.
There were so many, but to name only a few:
Charlotte Bacon, the little ginger
In a pink dress and boots, what a hoot.
James Mattitoli, everyone called him J,
He loved hamburgers and bacon,
But his mom’s French Toast the most.
Ana Marquez-Greene--with her big grin.
She is in heaven now,
But will surely smile when she sees her family again.
Caroline Previdi--silly Caroline,
And Madeleine Hsu, the shy girl who loved dogs,
I am sorry we couldn’t protect you.
The teachers tried, and many died,
But the gunman refused to yield.
Poor kids, they should be playing outside,
Or coloring unicorns in their books,
Not lying in pools of blood at Sandy Hook.
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