When they see me, Will it be my intelligence Or the color of my skin? The sheer thought that My life could end before
It begins scares me, Making me have an Out-of-body experience. The cops’ persistence, The mile risk, the distance To not be the next Victim behind barbed wire, Makes me recognize that My fear of red, white, and blue Gives a clue they’ll do And sacrifice anything To prove that I’m guilty. I’m black, so they’ll put me through crap, Make me lie, put me in a trap. Fear, my fear is represented In tears. My brain processing like gears. We protest, don’t rest Until we earn respect. Unless my color is white, I’ll fight for my rights. But the rights of my brothers And sisters, black or brown, Don’t determine that you Should hide, change your mind, That you should force me to lie. Doesn’t determine that you shouldn’t See me— That when you see me, It’s not only me, but the Figures that helped my Upbringing. Those who’ve died, those Who paid time for Crimes they didn’t do, Those who cried For being forced to lie. For the Exonerated Five Who fought for their Lives, rights, who had hope That they might become Free, fight. For Trayvon Martin, whose Life is never forgotten. For all the black activists Who fought For every unjustified police Brutality, death, killing, Beating. For when they finally see Us. For when they see me And not the color of my skin, But for the girl within.
