Bytes of
tragedy
once done,
heard anew.
A day
shattered,
dreams
scattered
to the
phantom grays
of maybe
not.
Sounding the
memory
revives the senses,
and the
vision
of pastel
horror
only helps
to loose
a cataract
of tears.
Such things
hue
a whole
life,
can stifle a
hope,
or mold a
compassionate
heart.
I'm still
hungry.
agd - Remembering the tragedy at Virginia Tech
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