History

It was a bullet to the cranium,

His soul had ascended, sent through a spiritual atrium,

though filled with resentment I think of the things I would say to him,

Our people taught you love the similar moral they raised me in,

It’s rare to see them cut, it’s even worse that they rebut

Our sister’s soul shines like a dove though,

she always let her cause in its own time repercuss, you’d be so proud,

I pray you had no pain and hope that bullet had no sound,

And you went to a place that was infinitely profound,

The pros that you wrote down are feeling so close now

You’ll never be a king till you’ve invented your own crown,

I went to our old house, once a palace now the mood as earie as ghost towns,

And I won’t say it but the days hurt,

I leave earth, and ask my mom’s if he’s cursed,

Will we get through the trinity if we don’t see the three thirds?

His Soul was infected, mind neglected and now the body’s cold,

Always respected though, you suffered on your own and no body called,

You’ve finally rested though, we’re distant but destined bro,

It seems the more I learn about the world, the less we know,

But as we grow, I realise that life was the purest when time was decimal,

Before I criticised you, accepted all the isms so in a sense I villainized you,

I don’t think I could ever take the pain your tinted eyes do,

And I wish I could have done more, but brought up by ideals more contradictive than the gun laws,

We are given the means to destroy but we are the ones wrong,

A reason to be so annoyed, just a piece of a void,

We’re nothing, not even a voice so socially poisoned,

How can we rejoice when all of our choices are chosen?

Are we going to be frozen in time?

Am I supposed to believe that we’re all the children of God?

If every pilgrimage was just to build images of Gods

And then fill them with bewilderment, that’s probably what killed him and,

It’s breaking up my psyche, I’m just here trying to rebuild again,

I’m making more positive causes,

And though it seems the universe takes my deposits,

And then give them to the people who are wasting the profits,

In some way I have forgiven them,

You taught me to be wise but, in some eyes, you were ignorant

They used their stereotypes to define you like you were synonyms,

They thought you were belligerent like demons were revisiting,

And though he wrapped you in white linen,

I hope you found your enemy’s entity, and somehow you have forgiven him.

History By Tayebwa