Louisville massacre

The boy's eyes dripped with blood and his mouth dripped of the same dark red substance. He smelled of the substance, as he lay there, on the black concrete, impaled with the sharp knife in his neck. The crowd around him watched as he choked on his own blood, crying. Everything was still. No one did anything, except watch in horror as they saw the teenage boy trying his hardest to grasp the slightest amount of air. The cries left his throat, he lay there completely silent. Tears dry as his pale, white skin became to dry, his tears falling onto the concrete gravel. I walk up, even not knowing the boy. Kneeling down in the driest place on the black concrete. I studied his face and wished I knew the attractive individual. Then, water started to drip from a high area, an unknown area. Rain. Everyone left, some unsure why they had surrounded the boy. None were surprised by this event surprisingly. Except me.