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Shawna Thomas

  Cheeks swollen and rosy with blood Hair full of grey and hope that the debt was paid The bus she rode sat still and the sidewalk he walked unevenly paved. Red the color of our blood And blue the color of his uniform He filled their quota and tried to repay Hidden behind cold orange skin and a crooked toupee through sin and iniquity with the count of bodies he killed that day. Our masks adjusted to fit the new scene counting each scar after each blessings we remain unseen. A nation hated us from the beginning Had no problem with creating with us Sleeping while making kids with us Taking everything we had and beating on us appropriating our lives on a screen. So we wear our masks to hide behind our lives will matter

but they dream otherwise.

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