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Poetry reflections

What’s Free To Me

I didn’t get the chance to pick

The color of my skin

If I did I might’ve picked white, they always win

At least that’s what they tell me

They tell me they ahead of us, richer, smarter

Faster, stronger than all of us

They got 24 hours, but we ain’t got the same

I must’ve worked two jobs

And taught myself how to write poetry

In what? 12 hours, man you know that’s a lie

But they don’t ask us why some don’t try

They don’t ask why some would rather kill

rob, and be lifeless

Is it really easier to give up and die?

I could’ve grown up with a hate for the whites

Cause they took so much from us so long ago

Even now, racism still permeates my country

Blatant disregard for my people in my face

You speak so well, you write so well

What, you’ve never seen a black master English?

And I know I ain’t the only one, I know it

But if they really dug deep and found thriving

Blacks, in spite of deviant politics

Then the belief we can’t succeed is relieved

Of its duty to deceive

No longer can we use time as an excuse to fail

And instead we get up everyday with a will

A will to raise mountains out of the valleys

And continents from the seas

A will that says I am greater than the sum of my parts

The parts that make me cry, the parts that bleed

The parts that tell me I can only be what I see

I’ve been off this planet, and taken up high

I’ve seen what it’s like to live and die

In a world that is not locked to our desire

Gravity, gravity, you have no goal but calamity

A sickness that causes and sustains depravity

What I see is not what I can be, see

Everything I can be is everything I imagine

And imagination is recreation of the tragedy

we call every day life, I call it a menagerie

Of blood and disappointment, of pain

And presumption that someone else will fix

What we ourselves caused

And if I’m wrong, then I’ll be the first to admit

I was wrong

Somehow I know I’m not, I read a lot

I’ve seen the lot of those who think they’ve got

Everything on lock, this life is wrought

With misgivings and traps, so if you think

You have a map for it, I’ll show you a pit

None of us expected, better that, predicted

Because science is always right, isn’t it?

5 replies on “What’s Free To Me”

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