The Ballad of Kyle Rittenhouse
Kyle, Kyle, it’s been awhile!
I’ve been away
Why the dirt-eating smile?
Did you tag Mary Jane like you hoped you would?
That cute dizzy bird
From the old neighborhood?
Did you beat the boss in Zelda game —
The one with huge fists
And the cannon of flame?
Kyle, Kyle, explain to me
Your mysterious smirk —
What inflates you with glee?
I didn't know that I wore such a smile.
But truth be told,
I’ve been on trial.
But all that’s behind me tho it was intense.
The jury ruled:
Mere self-defense.
Good God, Kyle! Self-defense against what?
A zombie attack?
Or a mad raving mutt?
Oh no, I’m a watchman to help the police.
Tho they didn’t ask
They still needed my piece.
For evil protesters, they marched as a herd
And burning down stores
Or at least so I heard.
No Kmart would roast - no not on my watch!
So my AR and I
Sought to cut its first notch.
Then I saw him, the blackguard, he’s giving cops smack.
He saw me and my gun,
Threw a half-empty sack.
I aimed and I popped that bad dude in the brain.
“Head shot!” I heard
Like in a video game.
But no high five came for my perfect riposte
But “He is a killer!”
From the throat of the host.
They chased me, what choice did I have at that point,
But to drop one and wing one
And find a checkpoint?
The chasing then stopped from the bloodthirsty throng
Lucky me I was certain
I had done nothing wrong.
Though two men bled out and would not find a cure,
I knew that my motives
Were holy and pure.
Kyle, Kyle, were they putting a store to the flame
When a bullet you launched
And death to them came?
I guess, seems to me, they had hoped to arrest
A bad hombre, not me,
I am good, I confess!
Though but seventeen years have elapsed since my birth,
I know my own virtue
And value my worth.
A good boy like me cannot ever do ill.
I wore plastic gloves—
Can’t you see my goodwill?
Kyle, buddy Kyle, I don’t get your sang-froid:
Two hearts that once beat
Now are sunk in the void!
Most surely a shot in the dark isn’t apt
For guys tossing bags
At you - they should get capped?
Or citizens thinking they’re chasing a slayer,
To act like you’re gaming:
Deadly first person player.
Did scores pop above their limp forms when you shot?
Did the corpse disappear
When you fled from the spot?
Well, think what you will, I was tried by my peers
Who thought I was right
And owed zilch in arrears.
The judge seemed to like me — like I was his son.
“Aw, he didn’t mean harm,
That cute son of a gun!”
So I will walk free and once more hold my gun,
And pose for news covers
And have fun! fun! fun!
Kyle, Kyle, you won’t see me for a while:
Two humans are gone
And still your fatuous smile.
You are too young, halfway formed is your brain.
In ten or twelve years it might
Crack from the strain
Of conscience awakened by age and reflection.
Will evil done now
Then not fly from detection?
Or will you, like fiends, double down on your truth
And glory in sins
Carried out in your youth?
Kyle, Kyle, I’ll return when you seek absolution
When for anguish of heart
You seek out a solution.
When the grace you have found in our misshapen laws
Will not settle your soul
Or disguise your great flaws.
Kyle, Kyle, though crowds cheer your release,
As sure as I breathe,
You will never find peace.