Pitch Black

I grew up with many friends. White, black, Spanish, Asian. Color didn't matter

But things started to change when we played Cops and Robbers and I was always considered the latter

We went in to art class and painted to see who's creation was the best

Jimmy mixed red and white to get pink and I mixed black and white to get a "mess"

"Dark colors don't mix." My teacher said kind of vexed

I looked at my friend who used his pink for a happy clown.

He looked at my paper's gray emotion and gave it a frown

But it was OK because we were still friends, right? Hands down

Fast forward to middle school and I fell in love with the chess board

But a black kid isn't supposed to be smart. So I played ball as a small forward

I jumped high to reach my goal. I ran faster to get back the dreams they once stole. I dunked the ball into the rim which represented in my heart...a hole

I excelled because I’m supposed to be naturally athletic. But I always got drug tested first because my plug was my medic

Or was my medic my plug? Didn't matter because I was still judged. Every now and then I need my conscience budged and because of the world system, my mind was bugged

As of right now, I'm pretty sure I have a virus. So I head to my white doctors to get my dialysis. I'm not hating on whites but I'm just saying where are the rest of us?

Well, we're constantly told to go back to where we came from. We both know we won't go back to our individual countries. Hello? So we make our countries here like Little Haiti and the ghetto

You say "Well we allow you to sit freely on the bus". But when we walk down the street, you stare like there's no trust. And when theirs a cop at the quick stop or gas station, we walk in with our friends as authority constantly watches us

Leave us alone. All we want is some Skittles and an Arizona. Oh no, triggered. Now Daquan is shot and Keyana is beat into a coma. Tashaun tried to run to save his head and hide. But now his gray hoodie is red and he's no longer alive. I pray to God that my homies will be risen. But I really need to pray for myself, because I'm handcuffed and on my way to prison.

I woke up from that sleep and proceeded to say "I had a dream." but stopped. "I had a nightmare." That's what I mean. Now I’m not gonna stand here like my hands are clean. I’m going to make sure I’m in the crowd...but standing. I had a nightmare but I'm going back to dream.



This poem is about: 
My country
Our world


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