I'm Sorry, But I'm Not Martin

Dear "Peacemakers",

 

I have to ask, am I wrong to think like Marcus Garvey and Malcolm X?

Would you feel better if I had submissive written on my chest? Or better yet, branded on me?

I'm not the type of person to get things handed to me and even if I did, I would inspect it before I accept it.

I'm sorry, but I'm not Martin.

 

Call me devious or mischievous, I just won't trust it

400 years of slavery and there's still no justice,

I wish my ancestors could've been armed like my Black Panther Brothers.

 

Yes, I do got royalty and loyalty inside my DNA

But every time they think of a nigga they always got something ignorant to say.

I'm sorry, but I'm not Martin.

 

As much as I'd love to hold hands

I know that there are mothers that want to hold their sons again too.

I know, I'm tired of running again too,

From Africa, from Love, from whips and chains

I feel as if they've rearranged my brain,

To split it up so there's more for them and less for me

How can we have not learned from our history?

They're against me, they always have been

Which is why I say I'm more like Malcolm and less like Martin...

This poem is about: 
My community

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