Because I did not die,
I mourn.
And I realized
Heaven does not discriminate age.

Three times,
I held his hand.
Watched him slip.
And three times the gun-men fired.

A bullet to the sky.
A bullet to the grave.
And one through my heart.

Blood-colored roses rest on a clear sky coffin.
I’ve never seen living things look so dead.

They say we all mourn in different ways,
Like we die in different ways,
I suppose.
But this time we gaze as one.

And like the men in uniform,
We watch in silence,
Listen with deaf ears,
And wait.

Wait for the end,
Of the end.
Wait and wait
Until I see you again.
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