The red and blue muse looking to **** me How ironic and amusing to steal me My heart dissected in this room below freezing Mothers are wheezing in mourning every morning There's blood on my doorstep, morgues are calling Merged into obituaries and I'm falling Bet you'll be buried before adult teeth are growing Sowing devastation and corrupting all my patience Another black suit congregation is waiting Another tombstone is silently relating Another blue vest is violently hating Another dead kid lays here Another dead mother cries tears We're worlds apart but in my heart I feel you I feel fear too Pray you don't live like us
I wrote this a while ago, when Nathaniel Julius died. Only felt right to publish it now though, not sure why.
It's weird that we were the same age when he died, but now I'm older than he'll ever be. It's also weird that I never met him or knew him or would've heard about him if he didn't get murdered, and yet it kinda feels like he altered my life and self-perception, even if it was just a little bit.
My mom still watches the trial of the officers who killed him as often as she can.