America
Fear.
Sadness.
Anger.
Death.
Nothing seems right
Nothing seems fair
Black bodies gunned down
Strangled.
Murdered.
Disposable.
As if we are still worth three-fifths of a man
As if we are not claimed by our country
Year after year.
Name after name
Trayon
Eric
Freddie
Sandra
Killed by police brutality
Killed by a system stacked against us
Killed by a country grown to hate us
The die-ins, the walkouts, the hoodies and Skittles, the saying of her name
Nothing seems to work
Nothing seems to change
No justice, no peace
Yet poetry
The words on a page
The concepts so eloquently written out
The escape
My voice
My experiences
My release
No Fear.
No Sadness.
No Anger.
No Death.
p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #454545} p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #454545; min-height: 14.0px}