Angry and tired Of America Being in America For this version of America We are dying because of skin color Privilege Watching murderers get away with murder How many times? How many ways? Hands up, hands down Hands that pull triggers Everyone is vulnerable, capable Shot up Justice, Lady Liberty and Humanity What do my peers have? Those tents don’t count Those liars asking for a recount Those scheming are sell outs Who will blink first? Why will this not be the last time? When will they understand all of us? How will we earn a teaspoon of respect? I can pretend to be immune from these tragedies I know bullets have no names or faces The gunshots are always louder in the neighborhood The aftermath boils with thoughts and prayers Just do one thing for me …remember My name - Woodrow Bailey