The anger in me cannot write poems. It sits and watches as my words try not to deafen me. It spits in the face of anyone who tells me they see only ‘one human race’ while these humans bloody the sun with innocent blood. The anger in me cannot write poems. It sits and watches as all the words break into a million stanzas, trying to fit into my tongue. I find I cannot make words; it is sitting somewhere in the corner of my heart, reminding me it will be here when I am a bit calm. The earth is heavy with the blood of the innocent, and summer days are bloodied in the world with the souls of innocent people who die every day. 😔
©️ Beatriz Esmer
Beatriz Esmer 
This is so powerful, it’s almost like the anger shatters the pieces of lifeinto fragments for poetry to put back together in a way that creates it;s own art and perception.
You are right Bia! The entire world is complete and utter fuckery run by bigoted fucking asswholes. Please excuse goddam French
An apriori truth Bia! Thank you so much