I am directionally challenged

Winding roads lose their landmarks

Maps lose their meaning

And bam, I’m lost

 

And I could see myself looking down at

Google GPS

Cell phone battery draining, draining, dead

And I’m baffled beyond belief when

Bam

I’m hit

Some car

Didn’t see me

Maybe they’re lost too

 

Not a big accident, you know

No concussion or broken bones

But big enough where my car is out of commission

And I have to make a decision

The other car is gone

(Jerks)

My phone is finished

My transportation terminated

All I have is hope

And I think

 

Maybe I can trust in mankind today

 

The thing about Renisha McBride

Is that I don’t have to stretch my imagination

To see her devastation

When plea for help turned murder

I don’t have to close my eyes

To see hers widen when she realized

Just how different a shotgun

Is

From a telephone

I can practically hear what might have gone through her head

Besides the steel cold bullet

I can practically feel what might have gone through her head

Steel.

Cold.

 Bullet.

I can practically hear her regret

That she for even a moment thought

The welcome mat on that homeowner’s porch was meant for her

That she could be considered anything other than intruder

That there would ever be a day where she could trust mankind

 

 

I’m so tired

Of not having to stretch my imagination

Of not struggling to picture it

Of knowing all too well

It could have been me