There once was a man named Tutt,
who got shot and fell on his butt.
All because of a pocket-watch he stole,
Wild Bill’s bullet caused the new hole.
“Boys, I am killed.” Dying, his mouth shut.
I hear you.
All your loud voices broadcast anger, frustration, desperation.
I see the care, empathy, and concern.
I’m feeling the impavid feistiness of your direction.
You ARE SO RIGHT!
I can see your determination manifest change.
Make that blockade of white suits bow before you.
Shut down that noise in your face telling you no.
Strike down the smug betrayers of your future.
Ride with the forcible waves of support behind you.
And make the future we failed to give you
a better place than where you’ve risen up from.
You deserve to reside there.
I love you.