Violence Speaks Poem by Tiffany Saxon

Driving down a dark street,
raging havoc
on the person one seeks.
Smokin' on the Mary J.,
displays the premonitions
of one's own mission,
to strike out
with all deadly intentions.
seeing the crowd of man,
reaching for the gun
raising sand,
hearing pops,
making contact with blood
falling onto the land.
White and yellow colors outline the scene.
red and blue flashers
with badges and masters
trying to keep the scene serene.
Trippin' on the idea of blue's clues.
Reacting with the party
when your face is featured
on the 10 o'clock news.
Sitting behind bars
for being notorious.
Trippin' with the buddies
realizing your passion of acts
was not so glorious.
Standing in front of the grim reaper,
the teacher
who's words frown
one's facial features.
Sinking into tears of fears
of the reapers critique.
Hearing echoes of the judgement
the reaper speaks.
Seeing life pass you by
like a baby's lullaby.
reaching for the freedom
that one seeks
when 'VIOLENE SPEAKS.'