You'll lose the blues, but someone else may lose their heart

It was a beautiful sunday morning

i said I would get a jumpstart on my initative to lose weight

I was about to go for a bike ride when my uncle rang the doorbell

I let him in and he said 

"is it true"

"is what true?"

"is it true that your father got killed last night?"

my heart dropped. I ran into my room and called his cell phone over and over


I gave up after the 20th time and ran and banged on my mom's door

Her eyes were bloodshot. 

I fell to the floor.

i was hysterical

then later on that day -- when I had calmed down-- i thought about everything i had ever cried about

not being able to go to a school dance

being made fun of

The Notebook

It all seemed so trivial in comparison.

I had never known that sadness could take on a physical form

there was this ache all over my body. This sadness that i wouldn't wish on anyone

This hollow feeling

my voice was different. My dreams were different. my heart was literally broken.

I saw a headline in the paper about all the killings that weekend

"The bloodiest weekend in recent history"

They misspelled his name. How nice.

They took from me something more than a father. They stole my best friend. 

So thank you Chicago, you've made a cynic out of me.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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