Have you not tormented us enough? Have we not paid for the sins we did not commit?
If they refuse to see it then we must, we must remove the mountain of sand that have built concrete homes in our eyes,
For the speck of dust blinding us has returned,
So we must be our brother’s keeper, we must uphold his dignity, let him not be tossed in the mud, beaten in the rain and dragged through his-story,
For everyone waits in anticipation of WWIII as though they can’t see our struggle, the buried burdens sprinting to the surface for air to breath,
We and the people have been fighting tirelessly for the rights to simply be human, to be worthy amongst you
For our Black makes us cripple; to the system, to justice, to peace, to love, to freedom,
Cripples, that’s what we are
Disabled to the opportunities some receive as gifts, and here we are struggling to get a grip of their hand-me-downs,
Completely numb to the depression our fathers and mothers have suppressed within the walls of their skin,
Battling the mental illness of being black.
Used and abused,
Raped and dismissed.
Our paralysis can not be cured, we deny the treatment of acid upon our flesh just to be classified as humans,
Though to be black is to be a prisoner with no chains, just unwritten laws of bullets passing through our bodies and a society failing us every time,
Yet to embrace the injustice that’s grown thick on our skin like tar,
Because our bodies still hang on trees, they call us monkeys.