Tonight, she whispers, will be my last

With each second that passes, she feels her body going past

Its expiration date. See how fast

Time travels, she hopes to hold onto whatever control she has left.

Tonight is not like any ordinary night

Anger bubbles through each of her crevices, fighting to see the light

The same anger she has bottled since she learned to write

Tonight will be the night where she is no longer polite.

For years, each week produced a new dead body

Started every Sunday with a cup of coffee and a new story

Cop gone free, black man became bloody

His life now a statistic, but nobody worries.

Government gone silent,

Society more worried about the Kardashian family,

Grown-ups preach about our entitlement,

Kids scream for help for our climate and the rise of violence,

But everyone has become compliant.

Tonight is her last.

Last day to be peaceful,

Last day of being too kind,

Last day of being silenced,

Because she has lost control.

Sana FathimaComment