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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

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
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
Who protects the people from the law?

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