My sweet boy
I recall your first step
First word
Your Smiles and cries
The excitement in which you viewed a fly
Such a precious little thing you were
And now you're dead
Laid on a pavement, shot in the head
Eyes wide open, staring at the sky
Perhaps for one last time, you're searching for that fly.

Mourners of truth, now hashtag your pain.
Retweet and like, righteous fury appease.
Protests are trending, do not apathy feign.
Fight and resist, till the next Marvel release.

Those who choose to dig deeper
must be willing to accept the dirt as truth
and the mess as proof
The only resolve is sharing tha loot
with those who seek not to be aloof  
those who can recycle  
improve reuse
Otherwise your pursuit becomes futile and vanity in roots
That holds you trapped in a place that never bore fruit.

Like a Pirate
Tied to a ship
who's sunken into
frozen winter drifts
Yelling at everyone who passes by
Uneffected Bitter Colder Less Productive
An Ivory Tusk Burned in private on public telivision

small protests,
a child's fist
in the air,
a comma
out of, place
a quiet and
simple
rebellion--
easy to
trace,

do these refusals fall into the void?
                                                                ­                               (does it mind?)

You say you want change,
You even go to protests, you say,
But as I look at your body of work ,
All you have to say is,
"I wasn't the one who broke those windows",
You don't do anything, you just yell among other yells,
Get over yourself, you aren't anybody,
Do something, don't say something,
Mr. nobody from nowhere,
The martyrs blood is worth so much more that the screamers spit,
Or even the writers ink,
You don't know art,
You don't act,
You just assume your overheard opinion is worth enough for us to listen.

This was predictable. The revolt was inevitable. Try to suppress a mob who all want one thing. The masses can riot. Anger's not quiet. We are all qualified to rebel. Revolution is beneficial, an uprising essential. Resist the urge to follow the leader. A dictator is not in your favor. The disgraced, it is their turn. Object the men who prefer the violent. A tyrant does not stay silent, neither do we. It is appropriate to howl and claw at a system that does one wrong. Injustice is where turmoil stems from.

She can insult herself all she wants, but her protests won't stop me from convincing her about her true beauty. I know it's not the best idea to argue with a woman, and i hate every second of it, but i'm overly passionate i suppose.