i am not protesting
i am not fighting
i am not scary
i am ?
there's a fight downtown, my mommy say there's a guy hurted like really bloodred hurted and they're just going on like nothing happened, and they're going places, with to where.
you say there's a homestead? somewhere we can belong? a place of hope? and restorative purposes, where we know God, where is it without and only from within, when you say you're, it isn't mine? and when you hate, it isn't right to have hated?
i thought you hated me, not he, not she, nor we, to have not been Us, as you said I trusted I lost my way, but neither my spirit, and my mind is singing and in motion, hoping for more of the same, yet it's different, when love became, and I saw a woman beat up, and people laughed along, with children cheering and becoming adults all along, and a singer seeing songs of hatred, not love, and the children hating, as I sent away, to another day, where there's a hope, a place to cheer say it isn't that I'm to be shipped off, carried away in a coffin, while here, prayed upon, oppositely, and not with Us, did you say, the cheering was to stop when there was a hope, and not Ours, was it to take, that couldn't be taken \\\ that hatred isn't ours, to have had, when you sang, I cry, and I cried for God to have bled, through and with, for Us and With