To My Love, Amir.

I’m suffocating.

I see my brothers and sisters dying for no reason, and it guts me.

Driving while black,

Sleeping while black,

Eating while black,

Talking while black,

Laughing while black,

Dancing while black,

Learning while black,

and the lists goes on.

There is no justice for me,

No peace for me.

Even though they tell me there will be.

Be what?

More pain?

More suffering?

I’m so used to physical pain,

I don’t know how to exist in a realm of sane.

This plague on my brain….

Yet I can’t complain.

Not supposed to anyway.

I’m just supposed to sway in the distance,

not be resistant,

be tolerant and coexistent.

Tell that to the people that oppress me.

That try to steal the light from under me.

I want to yell like a banshee,

but I have to be still, sit and grin with quiet glee.

It’s the American way they say.

American being white.

The white way.

Because that’s the right way.

To point out all the faults within this system would be unpatriotic.

But how can that be? At least for me?

My people worked these streets,

and built these buildings hoping one day they’d get a chance to truly see!

The need to return home is prevalent,

It is making me more than malevolent.

Oh to waddle in the dark night.

I straddle the fence of what is wrong, and right.

Ohhhhh, to be wrong for just one night.

-N

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