Writing

Protest after protest,

chant after chant. 

I watch and listen

as people continuously fight for their rights.

But the fighting should’ve been over

on July 4th, 1776

when it was declared that

I get it, you have it worse,

I get it, you're in pain,

I get it, I don't matter,

Not to you, anyway.

So when you call my name,

I shall fast come running,

Leave myself behind,

Even as I'm losing time.

I'm tired of the yelling,

I just wish that it would stop.

And I'm tired of the lectures, 

Saying all I am is wrong.

I’m tired of the bruises,

And these voices in my head.

I’m afraid of the dark

And the art

I haven’t made

The places not stayed

And the overstayed welcomes I

Know not to inhale the stratosphere keep

Both feet on the ground

And look straight ahead

It's 12:34 AM on July 5th, 2025 and I still see fireworks going off in the sky.

I hear the booms, the bangs, the commotion of endless fireworks

going on for hours

still raging

on a brand new day.

I'm smiling to myself,

remembering,

reminiscing,

the good times.

The times where it was you,

and me,

against the world.

Who would stop us?