so many people are in so much pain
wondering how it could happen again
why is it that one of our brings shame
up on top of the hating gravy train
watching young women and then taking aim
choosing to blame her if there is no rain
thinking not of her tender hopes and dreams
and only of how to be entertained
finds that her beauty and youth are a bane
sees how little she understands the game
that men can kill women over a whim
strike down the youth of a generation
who will even dare stop what I've proclaimed
death I embody; murder is my name.
This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.
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