I haven't written anything in forever but I decided to freewrite something ten minutes ago so here ya go

osage street

I laid in my bed again
as the sirens I called for arrived,
there were voices screaming down Osage Street,
oh the beautiful people we'd all meet
if we could ever get out of here.

I sat up as the stand off
drowned on and on for hours
and pointed the remote at the tv,
and wondered when you'd come home,
and wondered if you'd ever come home.

the dirty protestors surrounded their
room with dirty fliers,
a loudspeaker and out barrels.
and their sniper rifles
rang loud through the night.

and on my back, I heard the newsman
say the West Philadelphia police
were going to fish them dirty protestors out
with an incinerary device.
and I laughed at the neighbors on my right.

and I thanked god they would soon be gone.
and when the bomb blew up on Osage Street,
and the fire raged down Osage Street,
only then did I realize you're gone,
only then was I glad I was gone.
I didn't really feel anything when reading this like I usually do with your pieces, but it seems well written.

But for the most part this is just a bump.