It's too late for Sumatra and Jesse,
victims of a privileged white man,
who sniffed too many white lines,
to see the difference between a life and a knife.

Jutting spoke about how he was messed up,
but messing up doesn't inflict pain.
You see, thinking about the misfortune of another,
and plunging a blade isn't the same.

It's too late for their families,
too late to bring back the dead,
It’s already too late,
when he's too sick in the head.

If the victims were white or Asian,
would there be more of an uproar?
you see, this hypocrisy;
stems deep in colonialism's core.

Hong Kong isn't a playground,
it isn't a space where the paleness of your skin
trumps a person of colour.
Especially when entitlement is akin to sin.

Remember,
It's never too late,
to check your privilege.

Denis Tsoi joined Peel Street Poetry in early 2015 and has a fondness for emotive imagery and on-going jokes about rhyming dinosaurs. When he isn't writing poems, he likes to ruin couples photos at tourist destinations. To eat, he writes in code alongside several tech space-wizards.