The joy and sun of the Boston fun run Marathon
the third Monday of April showers parts the clouds
for the race of a lifetime, a yearly tradition where patriot pride
is all that outshines the solar star in the sky.
The earth shattering boom of doom litters the sky with the dark smoke of hate.
Why this? Why now? Down the block, another crash of the same bitter taste.
The explosions left terror in our hearts and stained the streets of Boston with dark crimson.

Who? Why? The man in the jacket and hat is the last standing bypasser unaccounted for when his bag dropped on the sidewalk.
Isolate the man, lockdown the streets.
He's heading down the block towards MIT.
A man dedicated to the safety of the most intelligent minds of a generation
fallen on his duty.

I pray this is the last day of hate. That this is not the way we will continue to play the fame of life
This strife is too much. The knives and the guns, the shots that rung out in the day splitting the afternoon silence.
We won't live in fear
of another villain near this great city
of power and tears will flow in honor of Boston.
But not of sadness or mourning, but of the morning after.
It's always darkest just before the dawn.
Joy and hope have returned as the sun again rises over New England.