On The Evening of July

I was staring outside and wondering

why am I not outside?

I began to look down and type

when I saw a statue that read RIP.

I cried, I cried, my blood ran cold.

I heard the birds chirping

on that very hot summer day.

The juice I taste became bitter–

a dirty taste.

I say, why must my homie die?

RIP, Remember forever.

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