America, Your Days Are Numbered

The days are fleeting and with each second, minute and hour — there is the urgency of expectation.

Who will be gone next? What will he or she say to prove the validity of a life that will be forcibly taken?

How do we reconcile the image of a police officer — charged to protect and serve — fatally shooting a defenseless man as his girlfriend documents the horror playing out in front of her 4-year-old daughter — nestled in the back seat of their car.

There is no rest for the weary travelers that roam in search of peace and prosperity and emerge bullet-ridden.

The souls of the preyed upon will rise in unison and paralyze the sun from the clouds — as the large drops wash away the grime from the grind of the stompers — with weapons of mass destruction.

The wet solitude of the aftermath will shed a stream that flows into the graves of the sleeping molecules.

Awakened by the terror of the nights and the days ravished with deceit and pious empathy — the droplets form the cohesive army.

Built to withstand the fiery disregard of the rights and dignity long ago slashed to pieces — this ordered regime wrecks havoc on the climate of change.

In this war — No Lives Matter.

Only the dreaded dead will survive the encounter to replenish the earth with the fragments of torture and truth.

The truth of a 15-year-old boy screaming for his dead father as cameras steadily capture the ghost hovering over the scene.

The scene of the crime. The illustration of why the days are numbered for us.


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