They say don’t trust anyone these days but
the truth is, you never could.
Progress is an illusion of idealism,
of fanciful thinking, a farce.

A Moment of Silence for the freedom fighters;
their dream is dead:
pushed into the pavement, suffocated,
and shot without reason.

Trapped in a never-ending wheel,
Generations appear and vanish
and yet, the same old plagues
are preserved beyond the gilded surface.

Protestors marching in the utmost
unbearable weather of New York City.
Yet they are arrested
by those who have killed our rights.

Watching my brothers and sisters
die in front of me; and even though
our skins don’t match shade,
God do we all bleed the same.

It is not Lady Liberty who overlooks
the land but the ghost of Jim Crow.
This toxic injustice is forced
into our lungs; we can’t breathe.