My birthday—
the day I was born—
also feels
closer to my death.

Sad, yes,
I must admit.

No one will remember me.
I try so hard
to make others feel important
on their birthdays,
to remember them.

But when my beloved day arrives,
they forget the one
who remembered them.

Ungrateful!
Don’t they know
I placed them
on a pedestal?

And yes—
those on top
don’t look down.

Maybe that’s why
they don’t remember my birthday—
because I valued them
more than I valued myself.

This was supposed to be my day—
a day to be happy.

I ended up alone.
Again.
Disgracefully.
Inevitably.

Every choice I’ve made
has brought me here.

I try to fool myself,
saying it’s not my fault—
blame my parents,
they raised me this way.

But I’m no longer a child.
Or at least,
I should have grown,
matured,
evolved.

At the end of my day,
the pleasure should have been mine.
But instead, I undressed,
put you in my mouth,
and gave you pleasure.

Happy birthday to me.

I spent the whole day
waiting for you to get home from work
with my favorite hot dog
so we could have dinner together.

You arrived empty-handed.

I forgot
I needed to tell you
what I like.

I say, Ashe,
I mean, what else to say
As they **** my brothers and sisters
Feeling like my days are numbered
Just another young Black man
Knowing that things can go left
Easier than they are right
I read and watch
Tragedies, hardship, and inequalities that never seem to change
So, I flip the page and turn the channel
Sadly!
As I unwilling become desensitized
After every shot,
Every choke, every hit, every knock
Hoping that they won’t steal my grandson like they stole Emmett
****
So, I close my eyes in defeat
Trying not to picture the demise of the Black body
Dreaming that change will be swiftly

As I see this police brutality, it has become a reality
As many people are getting hit with these bullets of casualties
And the reality of this reality
And these bullets of casualties
Are
That it's really sad to me
To be
Push to the left
Of this pain of death
Like Trayvon Martin
As I saw a Black boy
With happiness and joy
As he went to the store
Not to get stereotyped
As dangerous and poor
And to be treated like a bore
An animal of sorts
And to be made into a deadly corpus
His body
That lay in the morgue
And his parents
That cried O'Lord
And their tears
That's filled with the death of their son
And the injustice of justice that goes undone
These tears
They weigh a ton
Like the bullet of a gun
That killed Trayvon Martin and Mike Brown
But the ones that shoot these guns
Are never convicted
But they’re the ones who get assisted and enlisted
And the Black boy—
He's the one who gets unlisted and convicted
When he's convicted
He's thrown and twisted
Into just another statistic
So, as I pray
Hoping this police brutality
Will goes away
One Day
As shells of the bullets
Hits me where I lay

"Blood's thicker than water", they say.
But, it looks bad when it oozes.
They say, "Water is life."
But, you can drown in it.

What the ******* looking at
I’m that loudmouth
Cotton-picking
***** ***** you heard about
I’m that slick-talking, big-walking *******
****, I am a *******,
*******
I’m a watermelon-eating, cornbread-munching, fried-chicken-smacking *****
I’m a black **** that will do anything for the white skin, for those white men, that little bitty white plan
That western thinking, that only got us sinking.....
Into generational oppression
Contemplating deep thoughts of depression
Like clockwork
Over and over again
Wait
Over and over again
Is my clock broken?
NO!
Over and over again
In this sin, we call life
Playing the game with a disadvantage
A Catastrophic injury
Not having all the tools to conquer
This constant relapse of cycles
Hating myself so much that hate you
Hating myself so much that I beat you
Hating myself so much that I **** you!
As I say,
Yes sir,
No sir
Yes *****
No *****
But hates his own kind  
A *****, who doesn’t sit by the door
But on them corners!
Right on that corner on 79th
Or maybe 78th, or 63rd maybe 65th,
Name a street, I’ll sip the 5th
As I plead the 5th, for crimes I did not commit
Feeling so bashful and so cloaked with indifference, that I cop a 5th
1st, 2nd, 3rd—5th
As I amend my thoughts
I understand!
Just another body to this cause
Again
I don’t think you understand my pain
So again
I’m that ***** not by the door but in them fields, crushed in between a jail cell and genocide
With homicide in my conscience  
Ready to blast nine shots by two Glocks in a ***** that looks at me crazy!
From being a crack baby
To selling to crack babies
From whips to chains
To whips to chains
Not knowing why I hate
But deep down inside, I am full of love
Unfortunately, I will never show love
Because I was never shown love
and in the deepest form of honesty, I don’t know how to love.
So, with not knowing the stereotypes continue
And forms a mind of its own
Hate!