Challenge
Why SHOULDN'T Donald Trump be President?
Terrified
I wrap my arms around me
terrified.
He’s coming, They're coming.
Arms raised above their heads
chanting.
Children run streets barefooted
terrified.
He’s coming, They're coming.
Voices raised above the crowds
saluting.
Dead eyes watch the commotion
terrified.
He’s coming, They're coming.
Heads raised above destruction
embracing.
I wrap my arms around us
terrified of their future.
He’s coming, They're coming.
To bomb contestation
To build separation
To burn aspiration.
He’s coming, They're coming.
Taking us back to pavement soaked in
Black blood, Brown blood.
Taking us back to mass graves holding
Black bodies, Brown bodies.
He’s coming, They're coming.
Trumps coming — but so are they.
Those in disguise
trying to claim our bodies as a prize.
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