Justice | Poem

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Am I dead? A ghost, specter, or spirit?

Am I a fallen tree alone in the forest?

Why is my pain currency?

When I shout, do I not make a sound?

In my head, do I not think?

In my heart, do I not dream?

Do my eyes and ears deceive me?

Do sticks not sharpen into arrows?

Or stones into blunt weaponry?

Freedom of speech over speech of freedom, demanding progression and accountability

I'm tired of walking down a one lane road

Paying gratefulness and humility as my toll

I'll never settle for 3/5ths

Second class doesn't suit me

I've never been fond of crumbs

Or pennies left on the ground

Although my bootstraps broke cus mama couldn't afford stronger shoes

I'll find the strength to stand 

And continue to demand what I'm due

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