He cries,
not for the sorrow he feels for his butchered people
but from the teargas stinging his eyes
He shouts,
not for his anger at the injustice in his society
but from the batons raining down on him
He cringes,
not from the fear of what's to come
but from the rubber bullets flying past him
He runs,
not from a life plagued by injustice and police brutality
but towards the front-lines where the battle is
He riots,
not for what's happening to him now
not for the teargas, batons, rubber bullets
no he riots for the sorrow, anger and fear that he's felt
He riots for the young black people killed in cold blood
He riots for those who cannot riot with him
He riots for what he believes in
He riots,
and he is not alone.
