After I heard he was murdered, I immediately thought it was a sick joke,

That some corny punchline would soon follow,

I was so prepared to say, "Don't play like that, cuz. That's wrong."

But then the newsvans swarmed your death spot, and your spilled blood became a memorial,

A vigil, a wake, and a funeral would soon follow,

I can't explain the feelings that arose in my spirit, nigga you was NOT supposed to die...

GOD, my heart was pummeled, it was drumming, and I wanted to scream to the top of my lungs,

I needed to scream for his family,

Scream for my grief,

Scream because somehow I can still breathe,

Scream because I can't tell him what he meant to me,

Scream because of all the people that are suffering;

Scream because I already missed the old days,

Scream because everyday I miss our old ways,

Scream because I've known you thirteen years,

Scream because I'm still crying insufficient tears,

Like for real... my tears can't bring you back, Omari.....

WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LEAVE ME?

 

How can I call myself the Prophetess, when I could not foresee this prophecy?

How the FUCK can I call myself a friend, when I never came outside to see you?

Why the FUCK am I even GRIEVING?

......because I got love for you, Omari.

It was always love.

You were my brother. You never switched up.

My brother, my brother. It was always love.

 

R.I.P Omari Whatley (January 27th, 2003 - April 23rd, 2021)

Rest in Power, my king.

We love you!