She held tightly, nails digging deep into his hand. So deep she unintentionally breaks through his skin.

As blood trickles, no pain is felt.

No sensation.

As, his brain is overtaken by this immediate situation.

One so intense he can't wince, unable to make sense of this scene as it commences.

For, why has this come to pass?

For, what type of hate is this? And, for what reason is it directed towards them?

At the tender age of 8, such thoughts ignite his brain.

As this crowd shouts, calling him everything but his name.

He now looks down at his hand, but not seeking to check the blood.

He's seeking to understand just what this color does.

Is he this color as this crowd states?

How did he become less at the age of 8?

Less than human, less than seen, less than even cattle, to this crowd he is merely meat.

Tears stitch into the sides of his cheeks,

As he watches his father's feet dangle from the tree

---

Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/marcus163/support