Shots are fired thoughts inspired
by the desire
to see it never happen again.

Heroes walking right beside her
helping hands and lights to guide her
to a less bitter, sweeter, and brighter
world of Justice.

March or die riders share hopeful flyers.
Peaceful protest inciters instead of rioters
fight back against government deciders,
failed healthcare providers,
and other authoritarians who try to deny her
the light that burns so much brighter inside her.

Protest WWW..Global
Our Cries World wide..
From the USA even to the Mother lands..Africa..
Cries reaches US.
Paris France. Vancouver Canada, Germany
Visions and dreams have shown my stove is burning..
I often wondered what it could mean.
There's a fire in my kitchen, the center of where I live.
Theres a burning. In the heart of the land..
The place that feed my family.. food to survive..
As I look around my land now right in my homeland. There's fires burning..
In the hearts of man. From Injustices in the land. The killing OF another Now George Floyd Openly. Strangely for the world to see.
Now cities are burning, grenades are throwing, rubber bullets are shooting..
At us in our pains. They are arresting any and every one of us. Why..
Because we are Bleeding, so they arrest us. because we don't wanna go home.
Suffer in silence unseen. Hurt and die in our sorrow.. Obey curfews.. Used as tools to control.. what needs to be seen.
Our rights to be heard, our rights to walk it out, shout it out, All day and night with each other.
See us we want to protest, stop shooting your rubber bullets, because we don't wanna hide behind closed doors. Between 7 and 11..

We are risking Our Lives for this cause.. Risking Our health for Liberty.. Equality. Marching until our feet are bruised.
For the Rights to be free, Our Lives Matter, Our Rights matter, Our Equality Matters.
Our Humanity Matters, Stop Killing Us, Trying to Silence us.. STOP And.. Prosecute The guilty for abusing Us.
Overthrow The Powers in Authority That rule with cruelty to humanity. Especially to People like me. I want the rights to Express myself Openly, Our tears for the world to see. I want all people to have liberty.
In Our Pains why must you treat us so roughly, so disrespectfully. rubber bullets, gas grenades, smokes and flares, We people are already wounded, already feeling down, already fed up, already exhausted, already disrespected already getting killed.. You won't lift us up give us a  caring hand.. Us against those racist against us.. Way Over fed Up.
We are Thanking every color in America and world wide.. that Protest On Our side. Thank You.
Willing to fight and be heard and demand for changes for our kind, and all of mankind.
That's been denied..
Justice for US.

Someone whispers to him “calm your heart,” but the crimson streaked flesh that beats soft wet palpitations hastens his impatience to face what’s coming. He has no armor or weapon only the determination to do what is right.
      Four chambers are thudding like the boots a coming. Men in black garbs marching with fully loaded chambers, clear plastic shields up, and black sticks ready to bludgeon. Their anger is oppositional to their opponent’s fog of fear, fatigue, and determination.

“Breath my child,” a gentle voice says. A sharp pain pierces on the back of his head. A thin line begins to ride down his neck. Someone yells “get down!”
One row of men raise their hands, eyes turned upward. The soft voice in his head says” be strong.”
Billows of grey smoke spew from a black canister. Strangers and familiars choke and gasp, eyes watering. Dreams of a bygone era play out in his mind. A tall thin brown sweaty woman smiles, moving down the road while singing we shall overcome. Dogs snap viscously at her compatriots. A fire pushes her siblings back with skin scraping pressure. A few of them fall, and couple falter in the struggle but most keep marching. Her brother, who is tall slightly bulky but wears the well-earned muscles of a man who labored hard all his life, clenches his fists, preparing to strike. She pulls him back. “Be strong, and gentle baby brother.”

They continue to sing “We shall overcome.”

       In his mind the young man sees his mother smiling, saying “"Be calm, saith my heart. I am a warrior. I have seen far worse than this." He smiles through the pain stands up and chants “Hands up don’t shoot. Hands up don’t shoot.” Another brother rises behind him yelling “Black lives matter. Black lives matter.” A thin nerdy pale white guy cries we shall overcome, not in a singing tone, but it still rings beautifully. The struggle continues.