Louder, larger.
The grief turns to rage,
For little boy Roger.
His classmates, his parents,
Screaming, crying.
Hurt shocked
As he lied there, dying.
The hallway if flooding,
With blood and with people,
And now with the priests,
from all the town steeples.
They're leading a prayer
Of hope and of healing,
Watching the boy,
All of them kneeling.
Here comes the doctors,
The last to arrive,
Not giving a care
If he's even revived.
Now Roger is dead,
He's no longer here.
All because he called Tom
His darling, his dear.
He loved him so truly,
So honest, so pure.
Apparently it was just to much
For Tom to endure.
Do you feel better? Do you like it?
Can you even feel bad,
For the 9 year old gay boy,
With one mom and two dads?
Poor Roger lost his life
To a boy with a gun.
It's done, but not over.
The fight is not won.
No comments:
Post a Comment