The Little Black Boy

With big eyes and an empty mind

Living in the Big Wide World that will shape him

The world that will mold him to become

A Somebody.

 

He enters the classroom

The foundation of identity

Where his empty mind grows full

And his wide eyes grow tired with the experience

of flustered teachers

of his unstable home

 

We created this classroom

We guide them on this cracked path to find their own way into

The Big Wide World

A place where the Little Black Boys are left untended

A vantage to their futures

 

All these Little Black Boys

Imprisoned within the walls of a crowded cell

inducing the miseducation of the mind

for the soul of the Little Black Boy

Who wants to to become

A Somebody

 

He holds the pencil but cannot write.

He holds the book but cannot read.

 

No one tells him it takes time

to succeed

no one tells him it takes time

to be

A Somebody.

 

The Little Black Boy

With weathered eyes and a full mind

Living in the Big Wide World that shaped him

molded him

let him be

A Somebody.

 

The Little Black Boy stares as

his pencil becomes a gun

and his school becomes a prison

He learns from his own mistakes

because no one tells him that he can turn back

he’s more than that

he can be

he’s okay

but he holds the gun because

it’s the only thing he knows

Pointed toward the miseducation of his mind.  

 

The Little Black Boy

A pariah of the system

An outcast in the Big Wide World

An outlier in the world that molded him to become

A Somebody.