A Delusional Martyr

Tears and frustrations,
Which led to your actions,
Once again appear,
On the faces of your victims distraught families.
You were so quiet in the beginning,
But that was because,
Of the abuse you took,
From your fellow classmates.
Day-after-day you took it,
Rage building up inside of you,
When, finally,
In the dark confides of your mind,
You conceived a horrible plan,
That was so evil and cunning,
It would ensure that your legacy,
Would never be forgotten.
You get two pistols,
And copy poses from blood filled horror movies,
Before going out your dorm room door,
All the time,
Ranting and raving,
While your guns start blazing.
Innocent blood was shed that day,
Dreams died, as well as people,
Friends were separated forever,
While futures were utterly destroyed.
By the end of your blood rush,
Thirty-two innocent lives had been lost,
You hear the police closing in around you,
So you turn the gun upon yourself,
Just like Roman heroes of the past,
Except nowhere near as gallant,
Your cowardice appals me to have made such a comparison.
From beyond the grave,
You maintain that you were the victim,
You say that this tragic incident could have been avoided,
You claim to be a martyr,
Saying that you have died for the weak and defenceless,
You even have the audacity to claim,
That you are like Jesus Christ himself!
A bold claim that is,
As well as an inaccurate one,
You are not a martyr,
More like a delusional lunatic,
It seems that the world is better off without you,
But not at the price of human life,
As that is far too valuable,
For it to be taken out of one's own hands,
By a mentally troubled man,
Who, quite simply, didn't know where to turn to.