Protest. A poem.

Why march, you say. Why raise their fists in protest?

If you have to ask, you haven’t been paying attention.

Look outside and see the injustice. Look outside and see the fear, and the loss, and the indescribable pain so many have felt that you have not.

No one is saying they are more important than you. No one is denying your issues.

They are saying justice, equality and fairness do not exist in a system that is so hopelessly shaped by class, privilege and the color of a person’s skin.  

Why march, you say? Why raise their fists in protest?

Because if they don’t, who will?

#BlackLivesMatter

For more Poetry, click here.

For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.