Every knee bowed on our neck even when we’re right our tongue will confess just to stay breathing. Snakes in the grass that we’ll tread and hex that lays seething, fake bleeding, just as a reason to decay our meaning. The rage is heating but their passion for us stays freezing. What’s next? Modern slavery is them open-carrying weapons that prosper and officers that foster beatings. Their face red as a lobster sneaking on someone black just to accost her. Blue is the color of mobsters that fed lead to someone innocent; she bled dead in her own ******* bed. We could be doctors, seeking to uplift with our waters but instead, we’re razed to the ground, wasting away in a plot as we rot! Yet we wrought nothing in their haze. Our offenses aren’t grave but we dance with dismay to our graves.
September 23, 2020: It’s sad to know that our lives don’t matter to people. They want to take our hair, language, music, everything else. They take everything. They make us into what we’re not and take from that image too. I wish America cared about black people. It’s so ******* exhausting being a black man in this country. Black women have it worse. Again, where is our reprieve?