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Corona Da'Virus, Get Yo Ass in the House!

I wrote this poem after seeing Black people at the clubs/large gatherings in this climate. I pray everyone stays as far away from this virus/harm's way as they can.

I don't know if I was more upset that we wanted to die

Or because people wouldn't let us live

To understand an end as death by which we are no longer here

Meeting in the dead of night

Whispering faintly

Burning with fatality

How is this any different than when the enslaved ran to meet God under the watchful eye of the enslaver?

How could we not want to die

Why did we want to live

Having to push air through my lungs hurt

Having to meet the sun with my eyes burn

Having to move my legs to stand me up feels like trying to push a mountain up through the surface of a wave

It's painful to live

Is this even efficient?

I think we swallow the death of ourselves down but only so far as to feel the grip of it in our chests

I massage myself right down the middle

I pray that God keeps me breathing ironically while still

Being mad at the bodies that hold our beings

Why the fuck are they so fragile? So susceptible?

I want us to be impenetrable.

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