my heart’s heavy and my mind’s running. saying i’m tired is an understatement, my fatigue is a product of pain, and i have no more questions. one thing is clear, black women and men are being killed left and right because the color of our skin, and that shouldn’t be that hard to understand. i see overwhelming opposition to such a simple statement: stop killing us. it’s not a question and it’s not a plea. yet we live every day as if we’re asking for too much, begging for a crumb of humanity. adding insult to injury they refuse to admit any wrong doing, instead placing blame on the lifeless. whatever your reasoning or whatever your justification, any variation of support or sympathy or understanding or silence towards our oppressors and murderers leaves you with our blood on your hands. to anyone who knows me and loves me, yet refuses to love the same blackness that makes me who i am, you’re dead to me.