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.