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}

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741