There were no more hallelujahs to give out,
they had all been allotted for,
accounted for,
used up,
There were intangibilities becoming tangible in our throats,
rising through the ranks to make us voiceless,
useless in our resolve,
in our plight,
in our fight against violence,
Maybe I was mad,
or scared,
or both,
or maybe I did not know what to say in these circumstances,
in defense of a life,
or lives,
I was broke,
but not broken,
and I had anger embedded and threaded with melancholy,
but all I wanted was resolve
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