I’m tired of all the mural’s, bloodshed and candles. I’m tired of our homes, sidewalks and property being marked up by vandals. I’ve seen all the
T-shirts, balloons tears one can handle. These black hunting black games has got cease, we are not animals. I’m restless, because of the many nights I’ve been awakened by gunshots, sirens, cries and images of lifeless bodies covered by a white sheet, deprived of their futures and dreams, because of a crisis that has spread internationally. This is an urban sickness.
I am spent from having to bear witness, to countless young people idolizing the fools that bust their guns, the cowards that kill for sport, and are schooling the next generation of improved killers, drug dealers, oppressors and scum. A generation which should be idolizing those that wake every morning and bust their asses and treasure every grain of sand in life’s hour glasses. I’m tired of the masses pointing fingers and passing the blame. This cut through to the very fiber of my being, to the heart of the man in me. What we need is to stand up and find solutions and seek out contributions to combat this insanity. I’m fed up with some of the politicians feeding us dreams, while they sit back and get so fat that bust at the seams. And finally I’m so burnt out and drained, but like you I’m part of the blame. I also sat back and said nothing while they ridded our communities of the programs that would have kept our childred’s out of the street and out of loveless gangs and jail cells aswell.
DOC #000371779-D / 684745
Categories: William Bethea