Victims of senseless crime,

Victims with no more time.

People come and go

Much like the birds that fly to and fro

Some are victims I must say

While some are evil all the way.

Sadness, solace, sundry sins  and suffering

All because of hatred and radical thinking.

The evil, disgusting, wicked boom of a bomb crying out

More horrid and hateful than anyone could ever shout.

The deaths that occurred in twenty fifteen

Are anything but calm and serene.

The lives lost can never be replaced

They can never be forgotten or erased.

The horrid images of that day will not leave my head

I see them everywhere; the gym, the mall, in my bed.

Tears rush down my eyes while they convey the hurt

There are so many that they seem to flow onto my shirt.

Wondering why bad things happen to good souls

Is a story that will always remain untold.