I've never been much of a poet but I hope you enjoy this or if not I at least hope it made you think.
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Kicking and screaming as I lay crying in my bed,
four years old watching my family members get shot in the head,
men in badges and uniforms prying souls with titanium reapers,
life taken from the enemy of the white man's peepers
Growing up surrounded by hate and detestation,
plans of overthrowing the demolishers of my nation,
I finally had the opportunity to set things straight,
my finger on the trigger of the gun of fate
I stepped into the car all things going as planned,
strapped around my chest I was god in a van,
one more drive and I would redeem my family name,
yet for some reason my pride felt like shame
5 streets away I could feel my heart beat,
the pedal getting harder and harder to push under my feet,
voices of peers who told me what I was doing was right,
but why aren't they the ones driving this car tonight?
my mind filled with reluctancy and agitation,
thoughts of my nation as I approached my final stop, the gas station,
telling myself what I was doing was right,
I stomped down on the pedal and felt myself take flight
Speeding down the road barely attracting attention,
pedestrians not knowing of false divine intervention,
I could see the building and it all flashed back,
images of my parents being slaughtered and hacked
Anxiety filled me with 20 meters to go i dove out of the car as the trigger let go,
lying on the asphalt barely breathing I could see a 6 year old and his mom enjoying the evening,
the truck rolling too fast to desist as the mom pushes her child away with the flick of a wrist,
my vehicle made contact with the building igniting the the pedestrians,
the white man's bodies burning up disintegrating to thoughts in my head again
As I faded in and out of reality, it hit me that everybody has a commonality,
revenge is a human instinct but not a thought of rationality,
I got my revenge but no one feels any hospitality
no celebration of a victory tonight,
only mourning of the people lost in this no-sided fight,
lessons can be learned but inevitably forgotten,
alive or dead we all float on as if we were tree cotton
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