For the first time in decades or whatever, writing anything with tears uncontrollable bursting out of my eyes.  I'm here smoking this joint for the first time as a console me, Since I'm always leading, always heading, but today "Me" The one they believe in during the times of hold me. Is in need of a hold from them, but they'll never see this phase. So yeah, soldier toughen up. That's what I was taught never appear  broken, but right now, my authenticity isn't letting me. as this  tears fall, I let them, for they show me a very sad fact that hope was placed upon odds of fiction, and those odds were tied with a rope of hope that  couldn't hold him. The crazy part is I'm cracking smiles in between these tears. Cause in the end, it's in all these good memories that matter, and in these good memories, that's where that light shined the most. at the end, Ma boey didn't suffer defeat. He was living. We lost a homie, a celebration of the light. Hoodvick was in these tears -Swoo

Cloth with colors on the front and sides
under which nationalism is disguised
In my eyes both flags have represented atrocities
the trail of tears, the destruction of a culture and the enslavement of another

But, society has changed significantly since then, we've gone through several wars, had protests, civil actions, and changes in law, so why can't we finally all just say we're different, but still friends?

Problem is hatred is still taught,
think about those nine people in a church that were shot.
9, caring people practicing their faith
were tragically killed because of indescribable hate.

now I'm all for knowing your roots, and being proud of where you're from.
but don't let that blind you to progression, away from the dark days of before