she cries in shattered glass, in the open spaces where the dye was cast. a world so white, so drenched in paint, the ones now deaf once were saints. and when the black came out to say a counterfeit bill a jog a day- light crime so bold so crazy it made the streets hazy with smoke. equality sounds a lot like a hoax the war brushed away with nothing but Twitter tear gas and bullets are so much fitter, bitter is the taste of deafness upon a lost society. abandoned, forgotten, stomped on and out no wonder some have forgotten their law abiding piety. white paint becomes pink when mixed with blood. pink is a color for little girls, and fits perfectly with the sound of our world.
George. Ahmaud. Breonna. We love you. Rest in peace.