What is death?

Death is long nights in a prison

cell listening to homemade knives

being scraped on the floors, fashioned

to knock a chunk out of your vital organs.

While counting how many times

it’s been on again.

Full of anxiety wondering if I’m

fashioning mine correctly.

But coming to the conclusion that I’ll

use it for them to respect me.

All the while I’m reaching for life…

Death is standing under the gunners

aim to make a collect call and hoping to

collect all of what comes with shame.

Leads to praying that the receiving party

loves you enough to say, “Yes” to the

prison charges.

You’re upset because you could’ve plead

guilty to lesser charges, but the charge is

being born a black male,

thus, we were all blackmailed into acting

like the system is fair instead of for the

fare; plead guilty, now we’re the ostracized