Tucson... Poem by david lessard

who can really say what's normal?
or call someone else insane?
who can read the damaged mind,
that works upon another plane?

they may look like you or me,
but deep inside, they're not;
their values are not ours,
not the ones, we were taught.

they don't know right from wrong
they don't know much of God;
when we encounter them,
we think that they're just odd.

they're a danger to themselves and us,
they don't reflect, to think things out;
they maim and murder trusting souls,
and wonder what the fuss is all about.

it's cruel and unseen circumstances,
Tucson's just another place;
where people die left and right,
by a fiend without a face.