Dear John, it breaks my heart to see
your face today on News at Three.
I see you've lost your little girl,
the focal point of your whole world.

The gunman must have been insane
to kill a child, that much is plain.
To murder ten is just obscene,
I'm thanking God my hands are clean.

I've fought for years with all my might
and all my strength to see my right
to own a gun is set in stone—
the fault's the murderer's alone.

The answer's out there, plain to see.
To counter this insanity
and rid the world of Satan's sons
the good folk must all have more guns.

And if a thousand loony hacks
should happen to fall through the cracks
and end up armed, prepared to kill...
well, shooting them will be a thrill.

So John, I'm sorry for your strife,
but know, your daughter's right to life
must not outweigh my sacred right
to carry arms each day and night.

And, in your grief, though you feel cursed,
remember this: "Things could be worse."
For, though it seems that no one cares,
you've all you need — my thoughts and prayers.