Blood on your hands, THERE'S BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS,
Blood of our children, who you claim to weep for, claim you do it all for the kids until they're like me or my trans friends,
Our children are dying at the hands of your intolerance and you don't care,
You don't care about the lives you ruin with your outdated ideology,
The vibrant flowers of my community wilting underneath the shade you force upon them,
Their deaths are upon you, the red is in your ledgers,
And you still don't care!
My people are dying, my brothers and sisters from all walks and you don't care,
And I'll never let you forget that our blood is on your hands, our children's blood is on your hands.
YOU ARE READING
A Queer's Rage
PoetryA collection of poetry channeling the rage of one particularly miffed queer person.
