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My Life in Black
My life is being born black don’t smoke crack or none of the jack. But why do I have to be labeled as a threat because of the garment I’m wearing that you don’t accept or an expensive property that I own you thought it was robbed.
I’m never heard as I speak and the only way I speak is that we have to say YESSIR to you and you don’t respect us at all.
I can’t even say “I GOT MY HANDS UP†because you might shoot me if I say that line but the smartest thing I can do is just to stay quiet and take it.
Words can’t explain how I feel living in a harsh nation where you can’t walk freely without being a threat.
Red light, blue light 123 and we get scared when we hear them and run. Oh I don’t think so but, if we do we might get vanished and hang us up on the wall like the KKK do to us.
How many times I have to work to get respected?
How many times I have to show my kindness before y’all get the big picture?
Your buddy up in Yonkers pulled out his taser on me before I was able to get on the ground because of my anger instead of telling me to go home. All I’m saying this is my life in Black
N.D/@poetically.nate
