i was born in the middle of a question
one of those that people theorize about
one of those science tries to explain and religions preach over:
'why do you hate us so much?'
see, my black skin was made in my mother's womb
and that hate has been passed to me through generations
through my father's blood
and onto this skin of mine.
it resides in my fingertips, my digitals contain bloody scars
behind my teeth there are agonized screams
and inside my womb are the children i had taken away from me.
why is it that even though i can move my arms freely, -
i can throw a punch if i lose myself - i can still feel
the shackles around my wrists?
why is it that my neck feels tight at the sight of every tall tree bench?
why
is
it
that you still hate us so much.
even after all this time i can still see, trust me, even though you try to hide it
i can still see it in your pale eyes
and in every thin lipped smile
in every unwelcome touch to my head
in every single word you say to me,
in every bullet you put in my chest
in every filthy word that comes out of your mouth
in every idea you try to spread
in every step you take behind me at the store
in every single right that you deny me
i can still feel the hate.
and it is the god's honest truth
that i will, whatever it takes, try to make sure
that the black child that shall bloom from my loins
and that shall not be taken away from me
will be able to live with the blessing that is its skin
and without the burden that is your existence.