Lying in the streets of rage and protest sunflowers begin to grow underneath our bodies, beneath my dress, between our feet and around our necks, interlocking our fingers as we March down the street of hope and death, walking to bring home those we love and wish to keep, reunite the broken families homes of the free, who were torn apart as we Heal the wounded and mourn the dead, too many words were left unsaid as tears fall like bombs on top of our heads we only want peace not the war to be won, why is America holding the gun? Suck up our pride and take the defeat, human agony of dead bodies lying at our feet as the ground crumbles and cracks, turning black engulfing the living and the lies, how young do you plan to die? Age fifty? Age twenty? How about age four? Why can’t our nation make love and not war?
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