The day the earth had cried in deep despair
my soul was struck and stuck in time’s tight grip,
I heard the bells of distant churches blare
and felt as though I was a sunken ship.
The roaring faintly sounds of torn faces
gathered like leaves bundled near the street side,
mothers and children of diverse races
peering through yellow tape to see who died.
A young and lifeless teen lay cold to waste
the Law had made the call to blast his brain,
fall’s moon had brought the gloom and ghostly fate,
the mouth opened wide and screamed out his name.
The tomb awaits to feast and eat what’s left,
The beast is bullet, the bullet is death.
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