12 Years of A Survivor’s Guilt

By Tevin Louis

Survivor’s guilt cuts deep into my heart

reflecting on the past until the moment I was caught.

I try to figure out why I feel this way,

having guilty feelings I can’t seem to escape.

My homie is dead, but for what reason?

For just trying to survive and play street defense.

We didn’t ask for poverty,

yet he was killed, and I was charged with armed robbery.

His life was taken, our soul forsaken,

me confined to a cell, him to a box.

Survivor’s guilt is me in physical form

and him, just a thought.

One life cut short, another imprisoned.

Closing my eyes, I can’t help but envision

the life we chose. It wasn’t set in stone,

but yet the decisions we made took a heavy toll.

As I get older, survivor’s guilt weighs heavy on my shoulders.

It plagues me, burdening me with feelings that are unforgiving.

Shackled to this guilt, I can never be free.

Survivor’s guilt, maybe a part of my destiny?

As I figure it out along the way

I know my guilt is here to stay.

Like a tattoo that is engraved, I represent your name.

I wish you were alive so I could escape this endless pain.