Dear american, I am a 19 year young soul in a vessel that does not belong to myself, but with my exterior, you would say is of the lesser and I understood the immediacy of you putting a target upon my head, and let me announce this to you now that I am not infuriated by this. Why must we still live in a time that as a young black man, I have to work twice as hard to live up to standards your own was never meant to climb up in order reach the bar for. As a young black man, why should I be ashamed of my own intellect, wanting to disguise it by ignorance or to impress you with the dribbling of a ball or the handling of a mic? Dear America, my great grandfather did not have a middle school education, but even in the least that does not make him "another dumb"_" rephrase, an uneducated person, for the work he knew how to do with his hands makes up for those years missed, and the hands of a man like his tells a story your own great grandfather could never tell. To this day I still look up to him, for he had class, he had knowledge, he had wisdom he had God. He had God! Dear America, I will not sell myself short of my dreams just to become another number of your system. Dear American, I wonder if one day you'll understand. The hands that I have to offer you, will not share what my grandpas had. But my brown eyes will tell you mystory. My skin brown skin will tell you our story. My presence will alert every one of you the moment I succeed, you will frown at the thought of another successful black man. Ashamed of your own son, because he let another young black boy beat his own rank. Dear America, why must you be the police of the world when you cannot face your own issues at home? Dear America, I write you this letter in hopes that it Speaks to you. Dear America, I am not afraid. Dear America, I will stand my ground. Dear America, my hands are still held high. Dear American, I wonder how I made it to the end of this poem, because I still can't breathe. Dear America, why have you put the fear in our mother's eyes allowing them to believe that if their sons do not obey you, we can be here one second and gone the next? Dear American, do you realize that this message I am unraveling is too real to go unnoticed? Dear American, do you see that my message is too hard to make up? Dear America