The Man with the Manbun.

Me and my mother,
Were waiting in line behind five once,
For the Love of sweet chocolate puffs,
through the glass at the counter,
I could only see the last one,
A man in front of us, turned to me
And touched my cheeks,
His hand were full of bruises and cuts.
My mother pulled me back,
She said,”Joshua, stay away from the black one”,
Be like him she says, “The man with the
Man bun. “
White shirt, Black suit, sleek hair with a purple scarf.
On a work call, Sipping his coffee,
His eyes crawled through the room,
To the TV in the store.
The president addresses the public,“
“Demands of the oppressors will not be granted, Nor are we afraid, nor shall we bow down to the purple ones”
Said Mrs president strongly.
The Black man turned to me ,
I could see fear in his eyes,
The pressure in the air suddenly,  started to rise,
Madam president made that statement,
that would change all promises to lies,
“There will be no change in the government, be it forces, holy or godly”
Rage took over his face broadly,
Had he not or had he understood it wrongly?
He shouted out firm and loudly,
“I am a purple one I say that proudly, none of you are worthy enough to be around me”
He reached his back pockets, pulled out his glock,
I felt the cuts and bruises as they covered my face
and pulled me down to safety, then the massacre begun,
when I opened my eyes,
The man with the man bun, left the store with six dead bodies and one hand gun.