You forgot my name already,
Reduced me to my complexion.
My skin,
Mahogany,
Caramel,
Umber,
Means I don’t have a story.
My body,
Riddled with bullets,
Beaten,
Raped,
Stolen,
Cold,
Lies within the earth.
My spirit,
Trapped.
Justice,
Non-existent.
I had a purpose.
I have a name.
You don’t use my name.
To you,
My life had no value.
My headline doesn’t sell papers.
It doesn’t sway jurors.
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Categories: Creative Works, Poetry, Social Commentary
Muted Mouthful 
Great poem! I’m kinda nervous on speaking on this topic in my upcoming reflective book review of The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas 😬
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Thank you! I’m sure you’ll do well as long as you keep being your authentic self. It’s a sensitive topic, but one you can’t talk enough about.
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So very sad and so horridly true. Society seems to forget the rights of the victim.
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Love this !
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Thank you for reading 😊!
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a beautifully tragic poem. thought-provoking.
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Thank you so much for your kind words 💕
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Wow. I love this.
We will never forget them though, we’ll make sure.
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Thank you for reading ❤️
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