There is a scream stuck in the back of my throat
But this body is not mine
So I cannot let it out.

This scream is generational
An heirloom who's barers begged to not pass on
They were given no choice

This scream wraps it's claws around my words
It wants them to help lift it out
But my voice is too small to be a vessel for so much pain.

Did this scream taste like blood at the back of my grandmother's throat?

Does it taste like blood at the back of yours?

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

If I scream towards the sky and you cover your ears, will your God hear it?

Will you put our faces in the dirt because you do not like the look in our eyes?

Will you say you have been cut when we spit ****** mud at your face?

There is a scream stuck in the back of my throat
It is my birthright, this clawing grief
My condolences to whoever bears it next.