Protestors gather in downtown Cleveland. By Theodore Mosely
Your rights of living have no quality of life as we drive these streets that we are not to protect.
Nowhere to run from us as we give you directions with our fingers on the trigger to subdue you.
Holding forth the time of pretense, we gather together to take your life with our innocent laws.
The uniform of your justice has created for us a death sentence that we mistook for life.
Your eyes look upon me and I become an endangered species looking for survival from your hunt.
I am a creation of the image that created you, yet I have to assume the position for your justice.
Today my future is your pain of suffering, to behold me with your motivation of skills that desire me.
Running from yourself I hear the uniform of justice crying for vengeance as you took the law of oath.
The concrete jungle is now safe for us as you patrol with your choke hold that leaves us breathless.
A mother’s cry and a father’s seed has dispensed forever with your brave acts of kindness towards us.
Searching for reasons that cannot be explain within your character, we unite for graves of silence.
Your love of our people and the uniform of your justice have us confounded with caskets of tears.
Our days have us daydreaming of the hanging the nights dethroned us with as we slept with love.
Whips of correction infiltrated our skin for your pleasures that caught us in the realm of your night.
Instead of the night callings that presented it-self with no faces, we are faced with faces seen.
Now our days and nights are corrupted with the uniform of justice from Black Wall Street Massacre.
Hanging ourselves within the tombstone of their minds we escape with wounds of moral victories.
I pay for my self-respect and dignity with your cold steel and the wind of your explosive connections.
The mean streets of our lives have a secret society of death plans for our lives filled with stray moments.
The uniform of justice has hallowed our spirits for their superior demeaning of our mind to shape us.
We are sifted with your brass connections of political entries that you entrap us with in your chambers.
Seeking asylum with words of proclamation, your defense nullified our words with encrypted fallacies.
Conditioned to run from the red white and blue, we succumb to torments of drive byes that soil us.
With hope suffocating in the dreams of our stories, we endure the uprising with canopies of songs.
Calling for truth and justice our answers are filled with your corrections of unseated lies with your system.
Where do we go from here as the uniform of justice has us swimming the waters of lifeless lives?
© Theodore Mosley