We Can't Breathe

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"We all bleed the same."
A deflection.
A distraction.
An easy phrase to show
you're not like "them,"
just like:
"I don't see color."
"There's no such thing as race."

But this is a social construct
that you are kicking
and screaming
to uphold and preserve.
What do I want with your
cat o' nine tears?
With your iron maiden hugs?

We all may bleed the same,
but it's not YOUR blood
spattered across the concrete, like grotesque art;
steady flow against your seat, lives torn apart.
Not your blood rushing through
adrenaline pumped veins,
or your helping hands
held high
as you lay on the ground,
praying you'll see another day.

We don't just bleed the same;
we question, laugh, and shout;
we dream and work and doubt.
We want kisses from our lovers
and comfort when we suffer.
We want to breathe, must I clarify?
We want to know it matters if we die.