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No, I do not know….

why I cry

my tears do not speak to me,

mocking me in their silence….

No chance meeting of a lover on the streets.

Marching hooded white men armed to the teeth, pulling colored shopkeepers from their shops putting bullets to heads….

Children in cages, crying for mama and papa in a universal language but their captors won’t listen.

And The Blood Flag flys high over the White House.

No, I do not know why….

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