His battered fingers strum the guitar strings, leaving blood trails like the stains of dried blood on the pavement where his face was grounded
The blood slowly rolls down lowly strings and drips from the guitar as he blurts out the song he heard playing in the background of the panicked conversation, as the officer strolls near the vehicle
"You're not a musician, you animals can't read a book, let alone read music. You have any drugs, you know your type needs that high to entertain."
Mutual respect expected is now out the window like the man being pulled from his vehicle without any rhyme or reason
The officer shows disdain toward this human like the career he does not respect, abusing his power during the hourly rate paid to serve the citizens
Tears fall from his face as the fresh bruises on his wrist and eye shine under the florescent lights of the jazz club like the police lights reflection off his badge of power and not protection
The officer lifts the young man and uncuffs him and tells him he is free to go as their "entertainment" needs have been met
Psychologically broken, outweighs the physical damage he encountered, as his wounds will heal faster than this living nightmare
The audience applauds the shell of a man, the wounded human slowly limps to the back and picks up his first drink and eyes the Screwball being pitched around the room
He copes with the pain, the numb feeling puts a smile on his face and he looks at his reflection in the smudged mirror decorated with ebony beauties and he sees the wounded animal from the street
Calvin Shaw (he/him) loves listening to music, laughing with family and watching sports. Calvin looks forward to traveling the world and expanding his writing career. Calvin and his works can be found on Instagram @1995calshaw.
