June 10, 2020

The Killing of Black Men.

400 years.

400 years.

400 goddamn years.

And still…we’re afraid of the black man.

400 years of paralyzing fear hidden behind reasoned excuses and argued logic.

400 years of putting the black man in his place against the cold, hard red clay.

400 years of hiding behind our cowardly white skins only to protect what we never possessed.

400 years of stealing their tender souls and squeezing their God-ordained life out of them.

400 years of letting their strapping, beautiful, gleaming, limp bodies dangle from a frayed, wet rope.

400 years of tearing their flesh open against a razored slab of concrete, each precious drop of blood filled with the tears of those who cherish them.

400 years of rusted chains and shackles, braided whips, splintered boards, and sterile, hollow, hot barrels dripping with the echoes of the voices of sovereign kings and majestic men.

400 years of stained tears, shattered dreams, devastated lives, broken hearts, and unbearable suffering.

400 years.

400 years.

400 goddamn years.

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