Baby boy, I can’t even contemplate what you’re going

through, and when you go out those doors I always

worry about you, but hey, I know I raised you with

morals and values...

 

Then you go out into the world and 

I get kind of confused, cause you out here 

at times acting a fool, like you have no clue baby,

your skin ain’t the only thing going against you...

 

Skin...

Although it’s merely a hue, just a little melanin,

its poppin’ to us, but not so much to some of them...

 

I have to teach you how to stand up

in front of the police, act respectful 

even in the midst of being disrespected, 

so that things can be at peace...

 

These streets or the police? Which is 

wrong when neither are right ?...

 

Then I get that call in the middle of 

the night, my hearts beating fast and

I’m so full of fright, thinking to myself...

 

Is this about my sons? are they ok? 

will they make it back home tonight...

 

She tells me another young man is 

gone, not knowing that you aren’t 

home...

 

Someone’s child didn’t make it home, 

could this be you...

 

These streets be talking, they truly get 

their message across, it’s just so sad to 

say at times they come through bullets 

and innocent lives get lost...

 

When I hear that bangin’ and you yelling

through door, it’s with a deep breath and a 

sigh of relief...

 

I open it to hear you say...

 

 “Ma’ I tried to call, I forgot my keys...

 

Then I think and say a prayer cause the

Streets claimed someone’s son..

 

Out there is a mother that didn’t get as

lucky as me...

 

These Streets....

 

(c)~Angel~ 

a.k.a Wizdome