If my blood was oil, will you come?
If my blood was oil, will you come for me? Will you come for my family and neighbors too? Will you come collect our blood in tanks?
Or will you set it ablaze, shut your gates for a wine fest, and let humanity weep with vengeance of a caged lion?
If my blood was oil, will you dig a little deeper? Or let the whales swallow my city? For many winters, would my city remain dark like a tunnel cover in black clouds? Would you watch me become ashes and be watched away by storm water even though I did not light the fire?
Oh, but wait, I know! I know! If my blood was oil and my flesh gold, you would’ve came for me when you smelled the rubber mixing with my blood then exploding.
Come for me when I’m not oil. Come for me when my skin is not rubber. Come for me when I’m not gold or diamonds. Come for me when I’m not a commodity. And come for me when I’m still breathing too.