Hear another baby girl was stolen and killed today..... And I had to dig deep within my soul to be...... surprised? Cause I have, sadly, become immune to this ****. I find myself immune in this moment not even feeling the pain that once plagued me. I am immune to this ****? And I am no longer surprised? To young girls dying and distraught mothers crying. Cause this **** is happening wayyyyyyyyyyyyyy too often. And every news broadcast is a broad-cast of a shadowed darkness of the predatory heart. Babies dying, Mommas crying and I have gotten’ used to this sickness so much so that after the veins of my beleaguered soul had been invaded by this acquired pain that i have become immune to feeling this pain and i look at my own girls and wonder if i can keep them safe. My tear ducts not longer produce the salty sanity of tear drops cried with those who mourn the deaths of loved ones and the ducts of my tears are as dry as the mountainous mounds of desert sand, windblown by strong winds and not even a mirage of an empathic tear swells within them. My heart has so been bled by the bleeding heart of those wounded by America’s newest disease as hellacious murderers kill off heavenly angels and social maggots feast on their carcasses numb to the fact the heart of America is turning from plum to prune and no room is left to love the little, lost ones. So we wait for the next headline; the next broadcast. My soul once drowned in shadows. Shadows of the little ones, once fluttered in my soul like butterflies on a field of daises and now the field is mowed low and the butterflies go to a far away land, dead to my springtime world as it spins of the axis of all that made the butterfly and field so beautiful being, young, carefree and American. Love. A shadowed winter has ore’shadowed my soul. Cause I have, sadly, become immune to this ****. I find myself immune in this moment not even feeling the pain that once plagued me. I am immune to this ****! This stealing, raping, killing ****! And I am no longer surprised!