Hazel K

I can’t breathe Cried the Black man on the street. A mantra of pain that we cannot seem to defeat. His Their suffering and his Their cries will not go underheard By the listeners who attempt to make the deaf hear this burden. It is an endless cycle of fighting for rights that the white man seems to recycle Not one, not two, but HUNDREDS at least, bleeding on these very streets. The blood will not wash clean the streets remain dirty and the lost souls and lives will haunt these roads to when their ends meet He has not been arrested She has not been arrested They have not been arrested Can you fear for your life when you wear a shirt that once you are home you can remove with a jerk. But your skin is your skin, Can you crawl out of your skin Can you escape something that you are born with? This is now that is then we changed Have you really changed. Black lives matter But not until they are gone NO. They matter now. They have always mattered. This is their identity, not their job. John, Have you taught your children How to stay calm when a man triple your age points a gun at your heart. Hands up don’t shoot please Stop resisting please officer! Stop fighting this! shots fired . . . Is it a crime, to be who you are? You are an officer but. Who protects the people from the law?