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To survive another day is a lifestyle; We don't live anymore, not when we have to keep our eyes open Because of the giant targets on our backs that have become a birthmark. Fight or flight sensitive at night; Freeze and fright when I see those flashing blue lights. Hoodie on, hands in my pocket; minding my own business. You gotta play the game right. Mama says "don't bring home no babies" But she prays to God that I come home safely with my heart beating and alive. Footprints in the snow, I tread lightly. Don't leave footprints in the snow They'll know; you know who. A little bit of snow on you and it's a bullet through that heart The most important part of you that they don't think you have Because you're just an animal trying to survive in their game of hide and seek. Hide in plain sight and you'll be alright, But it don't matter; I'm still just target practice, Wanted dead or alive. Trying to dodge bullets like a butterfly; But I try to fly away from becoming the scene of the crime, The crime of being me in this white society. "Just be yourself", bullshit not when I'm prone to be force fed a bullet. I'm fed up to survive, I just want to breathe, to be alive; I don't want to be a stereotype, I just want to enjoy a midnight walk without averting my eyes, Without having to remember if I told my Mama I loved her Because they could be my last words I say tonight We ain't got much to call our own. Not our eyes or our hair, or our X chromosome. Not our face or our fare, or the places we roam. Not the clothes that we wear, not the house we call home. All we have is our voice and the sounds that we make. Every word is a choice and a right they can’t take. We have so much to say, but refuse to contribute. We would rather go play than address our issues. He wants to split families, deport neighbors and friends. Build a wall so our neighbors have no way to get in. Neglecting our dreamers, we say “that’s too bad”. Too bad they have a life here? Or we can’t care a tad? She claims that he touched her, even after her “no”. We label her a slut, and a whore, and a ho. Indifferent to truth, we distrust one another. We let those who speak up become flames to be smothered. His name was Michael Brown, both a son and a brother He was 18 years old. The only difference? His color. Desensitized to pain, we forget that it’s strange. These kids killed on the streets are no common exchange. In the land of the free Why stay a bystander? By standing we allow our hate to kill candor. Refuse the ignorance that our green nation breeds. Resist the injustice and plant the new seeds. It begins with a voice, not just yours or just mine, but all of our words to spread our message combined. Be loud and be bold, don’t be scared to critique. Use your voice and your right to speak.
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