Red and blue colors flashing.
The colors of our country yet, I am filled with fear.
License and Registration, please?
Can you step out of the car?
Hands where I can see them!
I want to get out.
My mind tells me "no" but my hand is reaching for the door and soon I am running toward him.
One shot fired out, two people hit the ground,
him first and then me, on him.
Fluid ran freely.
Is it his blood, my sweat, or tears?
tears of the race.
This time a ghost
I can hear it every time I close my eyes,
Aaghost of the shot and a ghost of him.
How can they keep doing this?
I see the patriotic colors: blood and tears.
This poem was inspired by the book "The Hate U Give" by Angie Thomas. I strongly recommend it. Also a small disclaimer: I am not African American and I mean no disrespect by this poem. I do not mean to feel the pain or oppression of being a black girl in this country today because I never will. Interpret this poem how you want, but know I mean no disrespect or harm by this.