The black band, so solemn, so tragic,
Represents so much, that thin strip of fabric.
It bears the memory, the pain, the tears,
Of too many lost over the years.
We don’t have the luxury of falling apart
Not even when grief is twisting our heart.
We bear our grief upon our chest
Wrapped tightly round our family crest.
Polished, shined, to respect, to honor
Bearing scars of friends who went on before.
We hold each other up, lean on one another,
Shoulder to shoulder, sister, brother.
Afterwards we put that black band away
Praying we won’t wear it another day.
This Thin Blue Line may ripple, rumble,
But it will never fall, break, crumble.
Sometimes justice is a damn dirty joke.
Nothing can return what was taken or broke.
Looking through these tired eyes so jaded
Often hope for the future is tarnished, faded.
We know too well sometimes there is no justice
Sometimes all we have is us, just us.
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