When you walk like you have 12 gage shotguns for lungs,
Your very breath is a weapon.
When you walk like you have pistols for hands,
Your very touch is deadly.
We did not ask for such a violent biology.
But we were born in the tide of oppression and forged in discrimination.
We did not ask for this.
This skin is a painting we do not get to wash away.
This story does not end when we wake up.
We live with the audacity to think we belong, knowing.
This was never out fate
A little something about what it means to be colored