Look at my skin…and think about what the future holds for me, a statistic of why America needs more police, or an absent father, imprisoned for his crimes,
unable to see the day that his son will finally rise
Listen to my voice…and try to imagine my past.
A 9 year old kid that hears the birds of the night, their chirping soon followed by a black mother’s cries, or a mistake, another burden of a 15 year old girl,
trying to save me from the fate of an empty plate
Step into my shoes…and tell me when your feet start to hurt.
Is it from all the marching,Black on Black crime is fine but a dead gorilla makes everyone start rioting,or your walk to American History,
to learn how your ancestors being raped is a part of your history.
We are judgmental creatures,i guess it’s human nature to be.
Im tired of praying every single night that I make it home safely, that if I am facing the barrel of a gun, it ain’t because you fear a black teen wearing a hoodie
We may walk free,but because of our judgmental mentality,we are all enslaved mentally.But I feel something strong that moves me inside,but it sure ain’t fear moving down my spine
I feel these shackles of prejudice breaking, rusty like those of the slaves buried beneath the sea.
I have outgrown these handcuffs of superstitions, knowing that I can open their lock without selling a single key and anyone can thrive in this society,regardless of ethnicity.
I used to believe my skin color only guaranteed life in a penitentiary ,but if my people created pyramids before Jesus Christ was conceived,hate it or love it,it’s in my genetics to succeed.
So when you look at me now, what do you see?
A person who lives by your expectations of me,or just a regular human being who ain’t afraid to stand in front of anyone and say proudly,”only God can judge me?”