Why must we

Observe these bleeding bodies

On the floorboards of restless ancestors

Whose lives were tainted by the scoreboard of oppression?

 

And we sit behind

A phone and find

That while we feel the same

The ones to blame are never accounted for.

 

It is so easy to leave the queasy feeling

Of death and endangerment at the door

If it does not follow you, tattooed on your skin.

Otherwise, your life is a perpetual hunting game. 

 

Everyone thinks they understand

Everyone thinks they can relate

Everyone thinks they are mistreated

Everyone thinks they bear the hate

 

But the hated are silenced by death and devastation. 

 

Our voices are robbed in the legal burglary of freedom

Our patience is embezzled by greedy ostriches in the sand

Our hearts are stolen as ancestors have been

Our life is taken with no repayment.

 

Our tweets are louder than our voices are louder than our actions

It's as though it's popular to say you're against something, rather than to 

Actually be against it.

 

Where are we?

 

We share these fears, these hopes, these desires.

We want a world of freedom, of unity, of safety.

Why are we not binding and bonding over bettering our lot?

Why are we fighting and foolishly floundering our shot?

Together - why are we not?

 

They look at me and deem me naive

That I am unlike them and don't understand

But our skin color matches and our spirits share latches

Because we share the fear of death at hatred's hand.

 

And yet my existence is not enough. 

 

They do not trust my experiences.

Rarely believing that I understand the plight

Unknowingly attempting to silence 

Someone who has to keep herself silent

To avoid conflict with family and friends. 

 

Maybe I recognize these

Experiences people perceive me to be blind to.

 

Maybe they just need to...

Trust me.