Later, some cop said
I read about it in the paper-two paragraphs
I have carried that story with me ever since
wanting more, wanting no one to have to be
those two stark paragraphs.
We become our deaths.
Our names disappear and our lovers leave town,
heartbroken, crazy,
but we are the ones who die.
We are the forgotten
burning in the streets
hands out, screaming,
This is not all I am.
Not on that street,
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