The marching of black, the marching of white

The marching of ones who could

And the marching of ones who wanted

The marching of people, which need nothing more than to be together

Across the bridge of snow

Snow which would soon be colored red.

Across the bridge of snow

Snow which would soon be weighed down by the dead

The ones who said would care

Sitting at our destination for attack

The ones who said would care

Yet when asked for help, were only of lack

We all live under the same sun

I don’t understand why

We all said it would be peaceful

But for us, they lied

Blinded, in the blink of an eye

As smoke covered the once brilliant blue sky

I was bashed and mauled

Almost as if I was left there to die

The sound of hooves followed

Closer and closer to the ones who ran

Looking around at the fallout

The sounds of lighting, into one black man

A figure from the smoke tried to help me

But yet beaten down by the ones who were of law

The blood of my body stained the roads

As I made my escape and was force to crawl

The sounds of cheering from outside

From the ones who hated us the most

They were not there to be a finish line

But were there for a toast

Picked up by a stranger as we ran together

Charging through the fire of the heavy battle

The sounds of the ax of the headless horsemen

As he ran through, pushing over people with his cattle

As the smoke cleared, we were only left with a symbol

A symbol covered in blood, as we were left in loss

As it allowed us to embrace our differences and irregulars

The symbol of hope and sacrifice, the symbol of the holy cross