My Feelings: When will you see me? See us? I can’t stop crying. No matter how righteous I live. No matter how educated I am. No matter how eloquent I speak. No matter how well dressed I am. I can go on and on about how well this, and how well that. Respectability means nothing, and I very well know it. Respectability will never save me from a bullet, and I know it. Nor will it ever shield me from the cruelty of white supremacy. No matter how much of a good human being I am, I’ll always be seen to some folk as an animal. A savage. A gang member. Uneducated. Sub human. A thing to be murdered, and tossed away like garbage, as if my life is worthless. When folk see the color of my skin, they don’t see me. They don’t see us. They see only what they’ve been taught to see and know. It’s America as I’ve grown to understand it. Sad. And I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting against a system that insists on fighting against me.
My heart weeps of sorrow,
In the darkest hour of the night.
Tears are shed inside,
Deep within my soul.
Yet, my tears can be seen and felt.
The weight of an unjust world
Has taken its toll.
It rests upon my shoulders,
And the load is much too heavy.
I’m tired,
As my weakened heart barely beats.
My heartache is too much to stand.
America has been killing me consistently.
A slow death it has been.
No knife to the heart.
No bullet to the dome.
Injustice will be my demise.
Won’t even have time to bid thee farewell.
Another black body blows in the dust.
It’s a sad song about us.
It’s about me.
It’s about you.
It’s what happens when black changes it’s hue.
It’s what happens when beautiful black turns to blue.
My Quiet Fire 