We Are the Dead

We are the dead
Short days ago we lived
And scraped life off the concrete

Our children draw pictures of
Flowers in crayon and the daisies grow
By the gutters in the heat

Your boot crushed our neck
As you opined on the beauty and equality
Of the natural order in concrete

No-one wants to see our body

The blood washes away like rain
As you scrub your shoes
On the welcome mat

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