Pray for the Perpretator
Today we mourn a tragic loss.
So unexpected! So soon,
In someone’s mind, they’ve paid the cost Of turning arms maroon.
The punches they’ve thrown have ricocheted, And knocked them six feet downs
They’ve lost the sickening game they played The mocker became the clown.
Tragic, however, this day will be.
As we remember nobody’s friend, But it’s all alright, as now they’re free Of having to pretend, that
They’re not like the rest of us.
With problems back at home
They wished, just once, their dad would call But he never touched the phone.
So we can understand, can’t we? That there are many reasons to miss This soul, but even now I speak
To an empty