i caught the streetlights turning on and holy f*****g s**t it was awesome

harambe didnt deserve to f*****g die

i cant believe they shot him once,

shot him twice.

it was my damn fault

i had a son, and i hated him.

just like i hated wins

i hated his stony soulless eyes,

ones i declared my own, mine very mine.

but harambe didnt deserve to die.

i threw my son into the pit,

like garmadan and lloyd,

in resent. my desire path lay

along that broken 95

where i met his mother.

damn, she was a loaded gun.

i sacrificed everything.

oh god, i should have run.

now im addicted to fentanyl, and krokodil

the stuff that melts

the words under your skin.

because under his bones

lays within, some part of me lost before,

some part devoid of sin.

harambe shouldnt have died.

he wrote for peace,

he wrote for love,

he wrote for his f*****g life.

so, i threw my son into that f*****g pin.

hoping harambe, would kill him.

the warden saw, with his scoped cane.

he shot down silvery rain.

would hit the skull of my son

but it was harambe who died

a preemptive epidemic,

when harambe goddammit died.

Reviews

[Tumi]

Your poem powerfully expresses deep feelings about Harambe's death and personal struggles. The strong imagery and raw emotion make it impactful. The mix of anger and regret really stands out. Great work!