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8 line poem on gun violence (I.e, the effects, note to the family)

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He came in gun in hand, violently shooting
I wake up on yelling
How did I fall asleep on my own family’s funeral
We were rural
No money, but I couldn’t leave them
When will I meet you again?
Is it in death?
Then it shall be, we shall meet, in death
User Dbishop
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