by valentinestavrou


you died last night.


Today, you’re famous;

funny, it wasn’t your music or your lyrics

’twas your death.


Today, you’re something like a symbol of anti-fascism/


but,will anything come out of your death?


Today, hundreds of people are demonstrating against your murderers

and what they stand for, violence for violence,

and the world, in awe, stays still.


Today, I write these words listening to your music;

stabbed to death, your voice hushed at 34, past midnight,

you only went out to watch a game, they say.


Last night, you died,unarmed, for what you believed in

and we, we… still speak of democracy.