The gunshot is ringing in my ears
Another casualty
Another number to be reported on the morning news
I don't know who that person was
If he had a family
I don't think he wanted to die
What is death when it cones down to this?
To the point that my classmates names are written on there desks
The ones that are gone
What is a funeral when it consists of a few friends dropping flowers on the destruction surrounding the corpse
What is life when it's lived in fear
In apprehension
I ask myself this as I walk up to the soldier
I'm almost asking for it as I walk up the the gun
Look down the barrel as I voice the questions
Why?
I can taste the blood in my mouth as I'm hit with the gun
Not shot
I am protected by media
By the color of my skin
By the pigment in my hair
I am shielded
But when it comes down to this
To the nametags on the empty space
To the rotting petals in the ruins
To every tear streaming down that child's face,
I am in danger
In danger of losing the one thing I hold dear
Not my life
Not my home
My identity
The shallowness of my friends overcome me as I fly home
Not home, my safehouse
They talk of clothes
I talk of bombs
They talk of bands
I talk of blood
Dripping down the front of the child who was shot that summer
They call me lucky
Am I lucky to be watching this
I guess I'm lucky to have a purpose
To not be drowning in the latest and greatest
But t be drowning in sorrow
To not be smiling everyday
But under a mask
To not have false happiness but to have real sorrow
But you don't understand
Whether your reading this or hearing it from the breath that whispered so many goodbyes
You wouldn't care
Yu wouldn't know real happiness
You wouldn't know real despair
Because if you're reading this or listening to it from the breath that whispered greetings to so many loved ones
You are still human
Remember the numbers
Remember my voice
Remember your life and remember
Fact and fiction are two different genres
