Fighting to Hold On

Last night I had a dream. I was in a room with about seven or eight other black men, a variety of ages. An argument began between two of them, and then another two and a fight broke out. One man involved in the altercation pulled out a knife and stabbed the other in the chest. He went for the man in front of me with his knife next. I stood there paralyzed by the thought of what was going on around me. Then the man with the knife came toward me. He was going to try to slit my throat. I unfroze. We began to fight.

I was fighting back. I wasn’t going to let him cut me. I was not going to let him kill me. I was not going to die. Not like that. I was fighting.

I woke up. I have another fight left in me.

In this world I better.