This is my story the one who has no name .
Can't call from the grave.
Which binds me.
Wishing for numbers to call.
It doesn't matter much at all.
Just another victim; I'm not here in your kitchen talking to you now .
Don't go wishing I was around.
You were the one that was found with the gun on the ground.
Giving flowers to my girl.
Rose was her name.
Crying came.
She knew where I came from.
Got what I thought was on her mind.
Not letting it get worse.
Drops are like bombs in the ocean.
Not allowed to feel emotion.
Music is what I use to love.
It was a gift from up above.
Writing lyrics of my pain suddenly I am drained.
Meet jack around the corner.
Trying to explain how I am.
Yet you don't understand.
Because you are a white man.
Don't you have to support your daughter.
Here am I grown up to support her.
Money is scarce resources maybe limited; here you are unlimited.
You are my friend .
Till the day's end.
You don't know what I have to contend with because you are living on the other end of it.
Jack is white always refer to him in second person to keep him on level pegging.
Treat him the same.
He is my equal.
Judge the colour of his skin.
Not who he is.
Don't have to explain his past.
I haven't asked.
YOU ARE READING
Only a Number Not a Name
Short StoryIts about fictional rasicism in England. In how I would approach racism whilst trying to combat white saviorism. Showing that we all struggle, how the 2 characters communicate in how they treat each other with respect and will do whatever it takes t...
