There are people being killed in the streets
And in hot, understaffed kitchens, I am working
I am working until my body fails me
And as I fall into my dreams when I get home
Gunshots, screams and cries echo in circles
And my dreams are full of bloodied bodies
And even in my dreams I am powerless
Even in my own life I am powerless
Controlled by the need for a mere couple hundred of dollars
To feed those dear to me
As monsters bare their teeth
and spew their deadly germs all over my sweaty, exhausted body
I am paid just barely enough to buy myself a meal.
There are people being killed in the streets
Their are people dying in hospitals their families can’t afford
Hospitals that I couldn’t afford
And I am cooking food for those who can afford to eat out
I shouldn’t be feeling the burn of a hot oven on my skin
I should be feeling the burn of a hot sun on my skin
As I take to the streets
As I fight for those who are hurting
Hurting more than I can even fathom, more than I can even imagine.
It is almost the Fourth of July
And people are being killed in the streets
And I don’t even have time to cry
And as people celebrate with lights and loud bangs in the sky
People will be fearing for their lives
And children will be without their parents
And parents will be without their children
And as I grieve today
I have to wipe away my tears
I have to pull my hair away from my face
I have to put on a name tag and an apron
While people are being killed in the streets.