Don’t you know how Black and brown bodies get pulled over

and don’t make it home?

Have you not heard the prison horror stories

and heard the cries of those you lock up?

If you take me now

will I ever get out?

If I speak too loud or move too soon

will you take my life before continuing yours like nothing happened?

I see parents left digging graves and demanding justice

from a department that never intended to do right in the first place.

I don’t want my parents to dig my grave.

I am not ready for my heart to beat in someone else’s chest

and my lungs to be hugged by another’s ribs.

I am not ready to go.

Don’t you know who my parents are?

Who my grandparents are?

Don’t you know my parents are white?

Don’t you know that my family will raise hell if I am hurt?

I am a daughter

a sister

and a friend.

Don’t you know I am somebody?

Don’t you know I’m not that different from you?

I just want to make it home.

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