Reflections Distorted

Today, the sky is an ashen hue of grey.
Today, the sky is void of warmth.
Today, Christmas is a week away.
Today, the sky is weeping.

I stand in line at the checkout stand.
Two older women wait in front of me.
My ears tune-in to their conversation.
They're talking about Connecticut.

*"They say he took his mother's life..."
"...went to the school and took the lives of 20 children..."
"...he went in and they said they heard popping sounds..."
"...Anyways, they say she was probably the first child to be shot..."*

And there it was.
Good old American sentiment at it's finest.
Does it really matter who's innocent life was taken first?
Does it really matter?

So petty.
So insignificant.
Here we are, facing a tragedy... and then,
Here we are turning it into a competition.

Frustration hits me like a wave, as I stand there in line.
My stomach twists because it's always the same.
My head swirls as I feel the earth spinning
It's always the same.

The sky still sobs as I leave the store.
The haze still haunts and the cold confirms.
I get in my car to drive away from the women.
I get in my car to drive away from the twisted sentiment.

Now I am standing alone in the rain.
The callous wind nips at my neck.
I stare at the rippling surface of the lake.
I watch the reflecting sky distort itself.

Somewhere out there people are suffering.
Around the world humans die every day.
But when it's here, the world morns with us,
And when it's out there, we pretend not to know.