When I blow out candles and sink pennies,
it’s for you, I wish:
That the truths of his last minutes
still wrap around you like a Boa Constrictor,
That your lead feet of inaction lead you
to dead end paths; detours to no where,
That your lies, believed only by the inept D.A. White,
are the dark shadows waiting for you at sleep,
That your karma is a catalyst to looking around
and seeing only your own footprints,
That you always know in your heart that you and the others
who stood by are just as guilty as the Murderer Danny Larssen.
