GEORGE FLOYD

Officer, your knee on my neck became my wreathe.

It slowly chocked me to death, as I couldn’t breathe.

I was murdered on the street by four heartless Minneapolis Police.

As such, I lived and died as a Black Man without justice or peace.

But now in the denouement of the story of this our people’s historical bondage,

Clearly pandemics of bigotry cannot and will not be cured by applying a bandage.