Writer’s note: This was a poem written on June 17th.

My friends, my friends
What has happened?
The years, the years
They’ve gone away
Oh, I’ve sang and rejoiced
How those years have made me
Yes, I’ve sang and rejoiced
It’s been fruitful maybe
To you and to me
And everyone else
Wasn’t those years filled with butterflies and rainbows
And with the rainy season every now and then?
And yet, those days have seemed
And endless prison war
What of is our future
When the present is doomed?
The day we were dismissed
Is not the day we stray
Don’t we pride ourselves as the best?
Then, how come you’re staining the plaques?
I hope this is a test of wills
And not the path beneath your heels
Don’t let this be the last for me to see
As I can be as fucked up as can be
I’d be weeping either way
And you too, would weep for self


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