To the Hyper-visible Invisible
Don't lose your head,
lose your temper,
lose your life,
end up dead.
Mama cries for her husband, son, daughter
a hoodie,
a similar face
all excuses for manslaughter
Murderers go free if they where blue
don't lose your temper
don't lose your head
or you too
will end up dead.
This poem is about:
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world