Black Breaths

[title type="subtitle-h6"]PF'anique Hill[/title][vc_row][vc_column width="11/12"][vc_column_text]They not the kindOf livesMeant to breathe.[spacer height="30"]No human-­Too much blood and dirt.drifting ashes.[spacer height="30"]The kind of men whoToo much pain for prayerToo Malcolm, not enough Martin—Too blackBoy, and too niggaToo TrayvonToo EricToo constantToo ghost for man—[spacer height="30"]There’s Strange fruit, rotting in the womb,Mommas bleeding outthe cores.Watch them perish.[spacer height="30"]MenWhose blood coats the streetsAnd no one cleans it.[spacer height="30"]They the kind of menWho diewith their hands empty. [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]