[Eviction]

Fall, the season of unforgettable heartbreak, that time of the year always reminds me of my son.
We lost him in October, when the leaves fall, I’m instantly triggered, smelling smoke from the gun
The flock of ravens gave me the thought of haven until the ambulance was too late to save him.
Pretending he just ran away from home, becomes hard when the leaf drops on the rotten pavement.
That unlocks a bad memory, unlike the pumpkin patch and caramel apples, they fade in and out.
That was his favorite treat this season, now when I take a bite there’s a different taste in my mouth.
Haunting images of him waiting, shaking from the cold and rigamortis, not one of that spineless coward.
Police say his body might be in this crimson river, so like him, this is where I’ll spend my final hour.
His life culminated in a land full of tyrants, he died in water that was so shallow you can drive through.
Still deep enough and proves if you don’t see what’s behind you, you’ll end up at the bottom of the bayou,
This swamp can tell stories, imagine seeing your death before it happens and that's where they left you.
My brother is down there too, some asshole said at least uncle frank finally got to meet his nephew.
It would be karma if that slipknot-trying piece of shit died but I wouldn’t wish it on his mother.
What I went through I feel like jumping in the blood splatter to recover, but he’s still got a brother.
I feel like I’m neglecting him, always in search of better days, in the spot where he took his final breath.
Presumably, he could have been dead before he got here, the captor dumped him in the final stretch.
There are blood stains on the algae, this became a vacation hub, for thrill seekers that dance with the devil,
They don’t see a grieving mother, praying his body floats from the bottom so she can give him a burial.
I was in denial, I told people he was at a friend's house sleeping over, or he was simply in a coma.
At least they entertained my lies, they knew my son was lost, he kind of became a statistic in Minnesota.
Devil worshippers suggested rituals, they said it would help me find peace if there’s demons I’m tied to.
I just know it would manifest more evil, what I would sacrifice for a reward that those bastards died too.
That would make me a monster, fantasising about their mother's cries, and what those echoes hand me.
I just wanted my son to return home, and got accused of being a witch, that’s practicing necromancy.
I became a permanent fixture of the bayou, like an ornament, do you think these critics can stop me?
Even family and friends say I need to let it go, I’m only here because they said a killer revisits the body.
I keep calling the murderer a man, but is it that simple? Knowing my luck it’s more sinister than that.
Karma for the shit I done, maybe it’s another mother, giving me penance for what I did to her, it’s wrath.
I wondered how many mothers sit here, waiting for their sons killer…