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The Purge

Updated: Nov 28, 2022

They burned me alive hung from a tree

Burned me in battle for Empire’s gains The centuries pass and nothing's changed In tower blocks still they're burning me We’ve never fit their paradigm The lowest caste in high-rise flung We’ve never been their sort, their kind An eyesore, flies in ointment clung They feign concern in spotlight’s glare Removing dead in secret nights Rewriting history dimming lights Even though they were not there They promise justice will be found And though we speak we make no sound Our poverty obscures our worth To them we are expelled afterbirth


Nairobi Thompson (c) 2017




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