My Body Won't Spark a Revolution

As of June 11th 2015, there have been only 9 days this year on which a member of the police hasn't killed someone in the USA.

My body won't spark a revolution.

My revolt will be as flimsy as the crimson ribbons which caress the ground

Pouring into a drain, scattered wisps of a human soul.


My body won't spark a revolution.

It will be forgotten in statistics

And you'll forget my name,

My age;

The lack of gun in my hand.

You'll forget my lips

My eyes

The little mole on my right cheekbone -

But of course you'll remember its colour.


My body won't spark a revolution.

I could do so much more when I was animate

I used to protest,

Protect human rights -

"Protect the human", protect the animal,

Now I'm reduced to a  body.


My body won't spark a revolution.

I was going to be a scientist.

A painter. A writer.

I was a graduate,

Who cares what a graduate of?

The point is, I had a life

I had a life I thought was worth to be lived.


My body will not spark a revolution.

It won't even send my killer to jail.

But it will strike passion into my mother's heart.

It will drown my sisters in sorrow. The sight

Of my lifeless limbs will caste more tears from fellow men than

Any smiles I could conjure on their faces whilst I lived. 


My body is not a revolution. 


My body is mine.

The End

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