I’m not Jesus of Nazareth,
nailed to a tree,
bleeding to death.
Dead.
I’m not Joan Of Arc,
tied to a stake,
burning to death.
Dead.
I’m not Abraham Lincoln,
crushed into hate,
gun at his head.
Dead.
I’m not John F. Kennedy,
smiling at crowds,
rushed to a room.
Dead.
I’m not Dr. King,
challenging hate,
shot from below.
Dead.
I am who I am,
forced into life,
nothing to say.
Dead.