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Easy (Tentative title)
A work in progress. First poem in a long time that I have written outside of the Hollins bubble. Covers part of being a black girl.
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On police.
i didn’t know about rubber bullets or how to make makeshift gas masks until ferguson mike brown’s body boiling four and a half hours face down, hands up, and bloody in the middle of the street. justice never required six warning shots into your back there is no such thing as protocol anymore when it…