Another 16 yr old Gunshot Wound to the Head, Another Mother Crying,"Oh God, Why Have You Taken My Baby?" Another Round of Drive-Bys.
The Second Day of Mourning by Gaston Ng The second day of mourning is always grey, When the grandeur of elaborate pain Fades into a comprehensible dawn. The asthmatic morning laboured to wheeze a few Competent breaths to last from bus to school. A grim visage canopies a lurching heart that still stumbles In the quicksilver and endless corridors of remembering. Mourning seems such a vain thing. It crys aloud to be seen, solicits pity with Conscious tears and wanton dysphoria, Damns an implosion with a paradoxical front. Trudging up the overhead bridge that prevent dented fenders And stubborn bloodstains on the roads, The sweaty morning clings onto my skin and sorrow Weighing with the symbolism of exertion.