IamBlackLivesMatter
Learn more about other poetry terms
At night I hear innocent people's blood cry out to me from the ground
Innocent souls who can't find rest nor come back to the arms of their loved ones
Dear Past-Day America,
The dreams that you created by your own hands soon built itself with the wisdom and insight of mighty people.
Oh, say, can you see,
blinded by the tear gas
By the dawn's early light,
shining through our body bags as we lay on the street, hitting our 3 hour mark
What so proudly we hailed
The vessel that pops and screams to be free
But constantly neglecting because of my skin.
The thrown your so high on, has you corrupted
