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the young resting

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I walk home on my own, watching my back with every step.
born and raised in Cleveland, catching up to the Heights.
I grew up out of Noble, the drive bys and break ins weren't so bad.
Never paid any attention until now, at sixteen, I looked to the news.
A boy my age was just walking down the street,
a bullet hit his chest from two others arguing.
He was a young man who walked the same halls as me,
just trying to get an education,
and get along freely.
No, I don't know his story.
I just know he had a life to live.
Now it's gone.
He could've been something.
He was something to all of us.
I didn't ever even get to meet him.
I'll never get the chance.
But to all the kids tearing up at every second,
to the kids at his candlelight memorial at Cain,
I'm sorry that this happened.
I'm sorry that he went.
The adolescents that shot and killed him will never live the same.
Since when did fights turn out this way?
Who gave guns to the hateful?
The hateful can't have guns,
if guns should even be given at all.
I never wanted to see anyone get killed.
Rest in peace, young man.
you'll be in our hearts forever.





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