Stop Making Momma Cry

Stop Making Momma Cry

“Don't you think momma knows where we stand in this world?”

Salted grounds; melted snow.
These salty demons play the same damn role.
White surface; layered over black land.
By the time the land reaches its original state....all it's left with are grated sounds of dirt rubbing into itself.

“But momma, what does that have to do with the way they treat us”?!

“Baby...wouldn't you agree, they still use the very ground they've thrown salt on, to get where they're goin”??

2 choices you're faced with here:

“You can let that dirt grind you into the potholes they want you to be?
OR, with time you can let that rain wash the dirt right off of you! Allow the Sun to shine over you. Burn their asses with the karma they created.”