There are souls hanging on telephone wires in the hood from calls that were not made quick enough to warn black boys from walking down the wrong block where the chambers in firearms were cocked. And the sounds of singing sirens signaled that another cardiac clock had stopped. Sorrow has borrowed the attention of our ears. We mourn in forced stillness. For his time is...up. In rafters. An elevated, nameless, tombstone that glows from light poles. I fear what the night shows and yet find faith in the darkness behind the pulled curtains of my pupils as my eyes close. To pray for the drug dealers and prostitutes who obey those hovering codes. In hopes that they will find shoes that will help them walk to find truth...
- j_niiiiceSnap snap snap. Amen. That was Beautiful, as always!! @jkschwaza
- dulce_kitten👏young talent luv it!
- joekenneth_Thank you all for reading! The love and comments are really overwhelming.
- eyeinditeWow...I felt that from your soul. Keep writing, your spirit glows.
- lawlzin_dreThat's my block lol those shoes look familiar
- joekenneth_@lawlzin_dre haha! It is your block bro. Gave me the most wonderful inspiration last night.
- sherbetsxWow. I haven't heard much of your poetry but this is my favorite and I think it'll be hard to top.
- lawlzin_dreLol @mrdesmonddd small world indeed.
- officialvintagepapi@jkschwaza that's deep bro
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