screaming into the void doesn't employ any change it's just deranging to see your own faces
hanging in the breeze,
from the flag of the free. what you expect when every time a piece of collective melanin dies and I look into their eyes and see me on screen?
cameras aimed at my demise,
no point of screaming at the screen, no point screaming at God. put that shit down and let them talk about what we did instead of watching all this bleeding.
I mean, what's the meaning of all this demeaning? I mean it.
it's not rhetorical, but the answer's on the other side of meaning, meaning .. we don't know. they never did. they just know brown bodies evoke the opposite of their skin.
I shouldn't have to be an angel to evoke sympathy for death. I shouldn't have to meet death at its door step for who I am. the price of life shouldn't stride on what the victims should've done, yet the reason they meet the maker is constantly reaffirmed in the papers.
we all bleed red in the end.
i'm just tired of mine leaking through this pen to speak for those who wish they could again
from the mouth that's tired of bleeding.
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