Dear momma and dear father.
What's it like to witness?
To testify morality,
As your only forgiveness.

This ones not within the rulebooks,
Though criminals are bred.
Between the thoughts emitted, from your mouth
And those within my head.

It's been 10 years unto the day,
I thought the streets were paved with gold.
Though it looks like no one's been here,
Now it's turned to rust and mold.

Thirteen years, was I a man?
Could I make it on my own?
Maybe the streets will grant me company,
I never really had a home.

Alas, I have a gift for you,
A few words to express.
Hate is such a subtle word,
For parents I detest.

I'm drinkin vodka from the bottle,
Don't ya dare me to drive.
At least we've something now in common,
No one cares if I die.

And I'm not looking at the road,
The colors mold themselves as one.
I'm writing letters with no name on them,
So you won't know who it's from.

Or maybe it's a secret,
Just between us, you and I.
I needed someone to remember,
What I thought, before I died."

The sirens echo the bloodshed,
As people watch them pass.
Another tragedy to fathom,
Another suicidal blast.

The news crew reaches battlegrounds.
The wounded leave there trails.
The camera zooms in upon the glimpse,
Of someone else's mail.

"10 years unto this very day,
Why don't we celebrate?
I wore my silly gloves and party hat,
At home I left a cake.

I brought the candles to my car,
Thirteen, not twenty three.
To commemorate the death,
Of the day that you left me.

This letters not from crayons,
It's the colors that I bleed."
Atop the writing, red engraving
"Happy Anniversary!"
 
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