Flags, they boldly dance stationary, suspended in the air,

Holding true as the torrent wind tosses them with reckless care.

They stand tall and scream to scare;

‘This is who we are. Proud, so beware.’ 

Upon themselves they gladly bear:

Our passed-down traditions,

Our ancient stories,

Our future ambitions,

Our blood-stained glories,

The things we do unfair,

Our oaths of loyal swear.

But today, the Flags cower in the sky.

They’re whimpering, a sweet lullaby;

To a dying innocence cradled between the ruffles, goodbye-

‘Let’s respect those of us who’ve continued to die.’

But they don’t really just mean die, what they cry: 

Their blood ran cold in our worship places,

Our theaters and bars, how cruel?

Under siege, our safe spaces, 

Even the school -

By things some of us deify.

But they’re unnecessary, we deny.

How much longer until we do something to try?

Because just pulling the flags half down does nothing but verify

The fact that the system is awry. 

Our future, the danger hunts and spy.

Thoughts and prayers are good, not enough.

From behind the podium, the powerholders bluff;

‘I sympathize, the times are tough.’

But we need people who’re willing to do the necessary stuff.

To get into action,

To fix this mess

Regardless of faction.

Otherwise there’ll be no progress.

This isn’t going to just go away with a puff.

The future looks rough.

How much time is left, how long?-

Until we, as a country, cannot happily sing in a song;

‘We're the safest and best! With us, come along!’

Because something is so, so wrong!

There’s not much time left.

Because soon there’ll be

From us, a theft,

Of days where the Flags fly without decree

To fly like a bitter old bird, struggling along,

half-plucked, half-diseased, and only half as strong.

When those not-so-far-away days have finally arrived,

There'll be parents begging for what they've been deprived.

Huddling together over lifeless youth, they permanently reside-

Crying: ‘Please, do something while the others are still alive.’

But the booming beat of the bass survives.

The screams of hate,

Of passionate fire.

This problem is great,

It is unique and dire.

But before into our own blood we collectively dive,

A new way, we can still contrive.

Now, I'm no seer,

Nor a cauldronous witch from Shakespeare,

But it's plain to see and hear

The drum. It’s coming near,

and soon, it’ll be in the rear.

It's closing in, a cascade of dark clouds, all the way here-

The time when the number of days at full strength become mere

And our own safety becomes a new frontier

So to change, just lend your ear.

So our children won’t have to live in fear. 

And from their sorrowful eyes streams the silenced tear, 

For a late loved one they once held dear.

Except; 

If we just accept-

That nothing's been done,

If we just keep prancing on imaginary rays of sun-

and the Flags just keep cowering, 

Like children in classrooms, hiding from a darkness scouring,

And the dangers go unchecked, unnoticed among the masses,-

Pretty Christmas lights as December passes-

People-

Innocent under their own roof or steeple-

will continue-

Like crumpled, crimson leaves plummeting aroun’ you-

to die.

Dirty sneakers and bleeding winter coats, a painful sight

Under the solitude of night and unfazed, humming city lights

As warm steam exits wounds instead of mouths, forever ajar in plight,

As the Flags just keep going on with their shuddering flights

Red, black, and blue, no more white.