My entire life, I've been around the police force.
Mommy, Uncle Tony, and Anita have always been my favorite.
My heroes with the shiny cars and badges.
In my eyes, they are reigning champions of
"good officers still exist" during times like this.

I've never seen a storm last this long,
and I've kept my silence for far too long.
I was stuck.
For all I knew was a good officer until my brothers
and sisters were exploited on tv screens and magazines.
Blood seeping down and staining shirts, eyes wide open,
and bodies lying in the street.

Growing up, all I knew was a good officer.
So my world shook when I noticed the bad ones, too.
They make it hard for me to defend what I've always
known to protect me. At some point, the bad ones,
we must ****. And with a corrupt justice system
that dismisses the actions that we see, it gets tough...
For both you and me.
"STOP ******* KILLING US," we scream.
But no matter how many octaves we reach,
they still aren't listening. And we are left to wonder,
"Who's next: you or me?"

We make posters with blank spaces,
prepared for another one fallen.
But it's apparent that they refuse to see
that our people are hurting; and that
the chains they put on us not that many years ago
are still bound to us as if they are the latest accessory.

I didn't celebrate the fourth this year.
My people are dying, and here I am breathing
and hoping that anyone near and dear isn't affected by this mockery.
"Black on black crime is a real thing." No denying that statement
but why say that first knowing that some of the ones
we are told to trust don't want to see you free?
Do you understand that any black man could be next?
Even though I'm a woman, ****, it could be me.
My *****, are you listening? Did you get word?
Homie said, "Set your clock back 300 years!"
How about that for a rude awakening?

Quit telling my people that this **** here is an illusion.
You wanna be "a *****" so badly?
Cool, my *****, this is our reality.
We out here dying every day, b.
Pictures of dead bodies and videos of the crime scene,
mothers and children crying.

I never know what to expect.
I'm just praying I don't get a call saying (insert name here)
died at (insert time here) for their melanin radiating
and minding their business.
#JusticeFor___: Trayvon, Sandra, Kathryn, Sean, Eric,
Rekia, Amadou, Mike, Kimani, Kenneth, Travares,
Tamir, Aiyana, Freddie.
Alton and Philando with six shots to the chest.
****, y'all know what's next and I'm so ******* tired.
I will say their names unapologetically
because my heart can't take
my people's hearts tearing at the seams
from the mutual pain we are experiencing.

Black kings, I will pray for you.
Black families, stay whole.
Black children, alive and unborn, I love you.
Apparently: a wallet, sleeping, Skittles, a cellphone,
loud music, cigarettes, cigarillos, shopping at Wal-Mart,
toy guns, failure to signal, CDs, and reaching
for your license and registration can get you all ****** up.

I've never seen a storm last this long.
I've never seen the good officers be seen as the criminal.
I've never seen a people so desperate and anxious
for light at the end of a tunnel...
Until the bad cops thought it was okay
to play illegally and get away.
*7716

7 years ago, I lost you. Stopped the tears and engraved my mothers name into my arm to get rid of the pain, and remind me that this custom made tattoo would last forever. Haven't seen you in years. Why the hell aren't you doing your job? The one you thought would love you the most when you showed her how the needle worked. Injections, you, detected my fear as you dared me to a sample. So, I injected your seringe-based love into the veins of the center of my arm, and I loved every, single,dose. But then I soon snapped back into reality when I realized I was diving into hell with my father. Daughter, yours I am supposed to be, but I guess you can't handle what you donated to my mother. Why the hell aren't you being my father? Is it because I don't have your features? Your heartless ways or your dumb mistakes? I have your height, and, since you're not here, I guess you feel so small to where I should stomp you into the ground like a cigarette  ****; one puff and i'm tired of you. Why can't you accept me for Kimani? Is it because I chose not to let you mistreat me the way you did my sister? Or is it because the middle name you gave me doesn't fit me at all? Kichonne. But, never again will I be called by that name, for it reminds me of the way you used to treat me, like trash. I bet you, no, I know for a fact that if I was in the need of blood,you wouldn't give me one drop. You'd probably watch me die and say, "You were never my daughter anyway." Why can't you be a man? Step up and say, "I messed up", and try to be in my life again. Why? Is it because I look like my mother? Beautiful brown sugar coated skin with about 2% mexican? But, you won't dare look at me. Is it because, when she died you were not allowed to the funeral? But I saw you standing at the door,  and I had shame on my face because I couldn't cry on your shoulder. Why does it have to be this way? But, I want you to know that, if I died,you would be allowed to my funeral,just so you could see how your absence killed me. And when we're reincarnated, we will be father and daughter again, and you will love me for me. Why dont you love me?