Why the deaths,
Can't we rest,
We haven't finished praying for our brother who just went,
Now we're hearing another one dropped dead,
Everyone's in tears,In pain and in fear,
Now I understand maths very well when I have to calculate the probability of men living or dieing before sunsets,
Or the velocity of the bullet before it blows the head.
Mother's seeing their daughters virginity no longer in unity have wept
Father's can't tell their right from their left when they see the blood of sons paint the streets like butter on bread,
I cried the day I laid my lover in his grave and watched his body turn grey from red.
God don't you see this mess?
I thought you call us your son's and your friends,
I know it's not your fault but can't you just send the devil to hell,
For once let's live a day we don't have to say rip or brother rest well.
©deryl
D