Strangles my existence,
To an ism of lessons…
I fight to be optimal,
With options that are minimal.
What is this life?
What is this life where all I continually know is strife, and if you don’t know about this black man’s plight…
Let me tell you, it isn’t easy.
Feeling as if I don’t belong here in this land.
As if when I look in the mirror, I think as if I don’t know or even understand this man.
To my hair strands, and to our differences of priceless privileges.
You don’t know that you have killed my innocence.
Separation, and segregation at such a young age, there’s nothing you can do but strangle me once more.
The social constructs, are not in fact this life…
But, still, I feel buried in the warmth of dirt piles and debris.
Somehow, I have to climb out of this mountain – high, patch to feel life and be free.