Wholly Divided
With a pretense that it's about race
Which maybe it is
But that's just noise on the surface
It's about frustration
With self and position
A feeling of imposition
With no recognition
Lots of friction
But suffered in silence
Because talk may bring violence
And none of it makes any sense
Until twenty years from today
When people will say
"Ah, I was part of those days,"
And half will have lied
To portray
They supported the opposite side