by Tiffani Jones
A type of suffering or distress,
The feeling of incompletion or brokenness
An unpleasant sensation,
That takes away your enthusiasm and temptations.
Makes us cower down and recede to anger or sadness,
Because in reality is an emotional sickness.
Takes your world and pulverizes it,
Attacks you with emotional, mental, physical hits.
Goes through you and goes through me.
In a strange way, helps the world. You see,
Defines how you would act,
And how I would react.
Helps us move forward by growing from the past.
Is in racism,
Yet isn’t racist.
But isn’t a sexist.
Pain doesn’t care about your age, race, or gender.
Doesn’t matter if you came with him or with her.
Is in the blood that sheds from our hand.
Is the murders and deaths on this land.
Is the fear of someone being killed when they leave the house.
Is in the faces of kids whose school is being shot up,
While they hide under their desks, scared like a mouse.
Is in the cops who abuse their badge,
The ones who get away with murdering kids who simply “look bad”
Is in every protest or march on these streets,
Trying to allow everyone’s hearts to continue to beat.
Makes our blood flow every day,
And inspires us to move the Earth in a better way.
Featured image “The Ronggeng Dancer- Sadness” by Rant 73 falls under a creative commons license