We lived through song.
Church hymns, jazz, and folk music.
We jirated, danced, and moved to any beat we could.
Because when we moved, our minds were at peace.
We didn't think.
Didn't think of our children being murdered.
Beaten.
Lynched.
Burned.

White America will tell us that period of history is over.
But I know it to be untrue.

Because I still see our children being murdered.
Killed in cold blood.
Left to bleed out in the streets.
Only this time,
people aren't gathering in groups.
They're not rioting against us.


Happening all over the globe,
cops are turning into murderers.

A boy who stole a cigarillo,
shot dead point blank in the head.

A man with an open carry permit,
shot in the chest with his baby in the back seat.

A woman going to jail for a broken headlight,
hung by jail guards.

I don't recognize my country anymore.