I Can’t…

I Can’t…

I can’t fathom the thought
Of living life with fear
Not knowing where I’m welcomed
Not sure if death is near

Having to wonder about my future
Knowing my past means nothing
Presently avoiding everyone else
Open my door quickly, followed by shutting

Afraid of people because they look different
And not because I’m racist
But because I’m not sure of their stance
Or their feelings on the color that my face is

I can’t understand where fairness went
Afraid of the hairless twits
That might have shaved because they hate me
Or want my demise because my face seems
Too dark for their tastes
Too full in the lip area
Because my descent is from Africa
And their beliefs are simply aryan
Or Hispanic or Jewish
Just different from my own
Feel alone in this world
I just want to make a clone
Or stunt double to take the blunt force shots to the head
And choke holds that aren’t “chokeholds”
But at the end the same desired result
I’m fucking dead

The bullets that aren’t meant
To protect or to serve
But instead they’re aimed aimlessly
Intended only to strike nerves
That’ll make me bleed out so my memory can be slandered
And I’ll be on a t shirt somewhere
And my belongings can be handled
By my mother thats too old and too sick
To carry things on her own
So my sisters must help
And my brothers carry my casket to a blank tombstone
Because I’ll be torn down and my character judged
For mistakes at the age of 16
Disregard all the good I’ve done in my life
All the lives changed of all these teens
From my work and my passion
To teach young men and women a better way
Telling them to trust the system, it’ll work out one day
But deep down im having doubts
Feeling like a hypocrite
Because I’m telling them to have faith in the system
When I no longer have that shit
I’m a product of my environment
And the media won’t portray that the way that I deserve
They won’t know my ACT scores
But they’ll know how I made a kid eat a curb
No recollection of my days working for Children’s Defense Fund
But paint a demonic picture of that time I pointed and shot a gun
Won’t know to tell people how I ran facilities to help at risk youth
Instead they’ll remind you I’m a vice lord, and make that my only truth
Pictures posted of my tattoos and of me drinking with my friends
No images of me dressed nicely, just Julius in sagging pants
Identify my friends as gang bangers and people up to no good
Never stating that we were all college kids that rose up from the hood
No stories about my triumphs or about this rose that grew from concrete
Just ways to make it okay that I lost my life unlawfully in the streets
At the hands of a black or a white doesn’t matter
It’s just sad I can’t live to help others because I’m reduced to blood spatter
I’m not making a political statement or making this about race
Just saying I can’t understand how I’m supposed to believe things will get better or operate on faith
I can’t believe I’m expected to bring a child onto the earth
Where he’s only walking into pain an asked to strive for excellence only to be met with hurt
No matter how much good I do, I fear that my societal worth
Will be based on my past and the size of my shirt
And the color of my skin
The weight of my sins
Everyone’s rooting for me to lose
I don’t think that I can win

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