11 o'clock
On November the 17th
His pulse was put to eternal sleep
In the arms of his dear friend
His blood painted the picture of prevailing preconceptions
Rejections to recognize basic human rights
For the tears shed will never tear away his mistreatments
For his legacy will forever carry a label called lewdness
For the way he will be remembered will never be the way he lived
But the way he died
On cold concrete ground
Wooden baseball bats
Broken arteries
11
Screaming sirens pierce the silent night sky
9 o'clock
In the distance
Distorted laughters rang
Digging up decades of overlooked disdain
Of a group of people whose sole desire is to love
Not in the bleak closet of despair
But the open grounds of acceptance
The perpetrators shared high-fives and take flight into the dark night of nothingness
Nothing but the crooked characterization of hate crimes
7 o'clock
He fell to the ground
7
The monsters strike
7
He stood with cigarette in hand
Silhouetted by the soft and silvery moon light
In a place known as the safe haven
Free of frightful human nature
Unaware of the approaching monsters
5 o'clock
He walked
Ever so calmly
Toward their usual meeting place
Tonight the sky is clear
Tonight the stars have sparkling eyes
He thought
Ever so blissfully
That tonight will be a bright night