I won't be coming to your funeral.
What's the point, dear brother, no tears to cry,
only a childhood lost, the torture years,
nothing lost, nothing gained, a numeral,
to become a cipher, an empty code.
Before you stands the child whom you destroyed,
even if you yourself were but a child.
Cousin Arthur and you, no time to buy,
only two souls, tag-team villains, two cheers,
murderers of children unite, you smiled
in my face with terror, laughter to goad
no one but sad-eyed cows, with me you toyed,
giving me decades for revenge, to write.
Time is mine to repay, vengeance in words,
or stories, generations, blood and guilt.
Your death, legacy, karma is my fight,
only your memorial service, birds
understand the chatter where sparrows built
residences, their homes, where they invest
Futures, commodities, speculation
until ashes becomes your service, fire
nurtures the burning soul, you did your best,
even at your worst, I looked up and saw
reason and love destroyed for sensation
and fun, your sense of fun, I won't aspire,
live like you, big shot, lion meet the claw.
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