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I saw new life come into the world. It was through seeing that black body laying in the middle of the street, the bullets pushed his brain passed his faced and painted the most crimson mural you have ever seen. It was beautiful, part blood, part brain, and part of looking into the future.
My life came to me. It was clearly written on street tablets written in guns dipped in native blood from far away places in places we call home. We are murdered but part of society because we play our role.
We are born into rage, a cage of our thoughts and all the while they are being judged by a faulty metric.
We are great, we lost sight of that and brought into our vision other things that should have never been. We should have been rulers of our minds and selves instead of ruled and placed on shelves.
We are crimson and black and our metrics matched the streets. As we seek out new life and deadly streets.
