Crashing through the gates of the mind
Adrienne pumping
Flight or fight
Time dilates as fear grips the reflexes
Each movement reduced, slow motion
Blood pounding through the veins
Kill or be killed
No sir this is not a soldier’s tail of war
But a white suburban housewife opening her car door
Outside of her own home, baby in the car seat
On a busy street
Such is the insanity of this crime infested country
We call our home
Everyone has a tail to tell
No one has been exempt
Death and mayhem
They call it crime, I call it terrorism
Those who hold the power are robbers one and all
Blind eye to the bleeding plight of others
Blind eye to the poorest of the poor
Squatters in misery while they splash out with another’s money
