citizens
Learn more about other poetry terms
dear you,
beautiful black woman
you woke up to a nightmare, november ninth
I wish my phone would ring
I call home, waiting alone, dial tone screams
my mind's cold behind this blindfold of space and time
I can't escape it I'm
waiting
and like a fine rope this line holds
The destruction it leaves
the people who grieve
Is it worth it to have
a weapon that leaves people so sad?
We need them to hunt
we need them to survive
but some people just have them
