I must disappoint you again, kind sir.

That who you prefer,

has run fast away

and left us all in complete disarray.

She was broken, lost, beyond hope at all,

hanging there limp like a little rag doll.

Who was running away without a moment’s hesitation,

all because she was not Caucasian.

She was black, black as the darkest night,

and her dilated pupils flashed with pure white fright,

as she fled, searching for her glowing light,

at the end of the tunnel, far far away.

They say she made it by a mere second,

that’s what the faceless say, or so I reckon,

she she slammed the iron gates just in time,

the door to hell she left sagging behind,

and she was here, here to stay.