on the playground

[sumayyah]

that click that you hear
is not the sound of
plastic on marble
is not the sound of
metal on glass
is not a clue of
insanity
it is the sound
of a slide
there are no children here
only little people
who stare
with blank eyes
the streets are winning
what have we done
to our youth?
that noise your hear
is not the sound of
happy smiles in the
summertime
is not the sound of joy
it is the sound
of laughter
haunting
because it arrives
after the sirens die away
there are no children here
only machines
that have been programmed
to destroy all
including the self
what have we done
to our youth?
name calling
“yo’ mama..”
“yo’ daddy…”
shameless in their usage
of those fighting words
to lose a life
for having the audacity
to let an eyeball roam
to allow a tongue
to run wild
how can we
face ourselves
at recess
there is no game playing
only the silence that follows
the scatter
there are no children here