Boston Massacre Poem by Alfred Ramos

Boston Massacre
It’s a crisp spring day
And thousands came to play
More came to watch and celebrate
Not seeing the shadow of hate
Yes our taxes are due
But for a few hours forget the rue
Life itself is a Marathon for most
That we’d like to finish with a toast
We shouldn’t have to run for our life
Like someone chasing us with a knife
Always looking over our shoulder
For shrapnel or a flying boulder
That can ruin anyone’s day
From an unsuspected foray
Now blood stains the finish line
Hospital beds filled with whine
Lost limbs and scarred faces
Bad memories fill the empty spaces
Question left in the aftermath
How do we stop the senseless wrath? ?