This past week all I could think about was that noose. Why did they give it to us? What kind of joke did they think it was?
I guess, now, they’re not laughing anymore. Now they want to wrap that same noose around my neck. I took him from them. They didn’t deserve him. They held him back. For a while he saw them for what they were. Under the rug brushers. Sailors of denial. Masqueraders of the smallest truths.
I think they were jealous of him. It doesn’t matter now. He’s here…with me…and the noose is somewhere in storage.
-M.R.-
Moveka Rame 
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