The World is Broken

The gift we left our children.

The world is broken, though I never told my children.

It’s broken and misplaced. Our children, mine and yours,

follow the crowd. The world is broken, and we never told our

children. A viral world of hate and color we built for them.

And we did it while smiling little, big lies.

Once they were little girls in curls, their dresses twirling,

playing hopscotch or Barbies.

They were warrior princesses

and Daddy’s little girl.

Our little boys wanted to be strong and

tough, playing football and baseball, but they

never left Mommy’s side.

They’re older now, and know

our lies, no more playing for them.

Boys grew into men too early

while dying in the streets begging to breathe.

We won’t let them,

our feet lodged on their necks.

And our little girls are shot dead in bed.

We, you and me, all of us

motherfuckers allowed this bullshit to continue when our

parents gave us a broken and misplaced world on Christmas,

Easter, Juneteenth, and every fucking 4th of July.

It was our graduation day.

Right now, a million daddies sit in jail with no bail, and

momma teaches their boys the Police are not their friends.

TV, Twitter, and Facebook clap back at children found hung in the streets.

And the Orange Man on 1600 Pennsylvania Ave sells law and order

while hiding downstairs. His children are safe. No knees in their necks.

I’m old now. We fucked up the world, you and me.

It’s broken and misplaced,

and our children march down streets with masks and bandanas

on their faces. No justice. No peace. They demand.

Oh, to be young, and believe in

such lies.

Now our boys and girls have their own little girls in curls and boys squeezing

mommy’s hand.

Do they lie to their children too?

Do they say the world is broken?

We never told our children.

But now they have to fix it.

Is it too late to say sorry?