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The one thing you forgot...
by
B. Hopewell
Why did you have to be so hard? I know who you are. Remember me? I remember you.
I knew you when you were young. I remember when it was ok for you to talk to me.
I remember driving up and you and your friends would see if I had bubble gum
with me.
What happened? You grew up. You grew up, and then you acted like you had never
seen me before. I would speak, and you pretended I wasn’t there. The first time
you got in trouble I asked you why? You said it was all about respect. Respect?
You and your friends seem to mistake respect for fear. You don’t want someone to
respect you. You want them to fear you. You carry your gun with you. You said it
was part of being a man. I told you. I told you that a child can use a gun, a
man doesn’t need one. You wouldn’t listen. Why wouldn’t you listen?
So, this is how it is? Can you even hear me? I’m not sure you can. If you can,
hear this, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t save you. I think the bullet hit your
heart. Every compression just makes more blood come out. I’m sorry; I didn’t
want to be dispatched to this call. I told you this would happen. You wouldn’t
listen. If you had only listened.
The one thing you forgot? Respect for yourself. Go peacefully young man.
B. Hopewell
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