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.
