The new way of life

Bullets

Nobody deserves to die
Mother dressed in black with flowers while she cries
The new way to deal with your problems is with a gun
But you don’t know the reality of the harm that you’ve done
And now a mother has to bury her son
Tears coming down her face and even through all of this we still kill our own race
What is the issue? How can it be resolved?
What is the answer to this puzzle we caused?
Is it the guns? Is it the gangs?
In the end it doesn’t matter because we all still hang
We hang from a tree of slavery making it a need to kill our own to look cool or be tough
We look like fools acting like this knowing our ancestors had it rough
Now sketched into stone is your sibling’s name with bones
Wishing you could have told them to stay out that zone
This is all a cycle that we need to stop
But it never stops because we still have cops
The people who are supposed to protect us
They abuse the power they have and objectify us
“I only killed him because he looked threatening to me”
He look threatening to you?
My black skin is nothing new
Now you are turning blue because you feel unsafe
I’m guessing that it has to do with my race
And the fact that our Kings and Queens have beautiful faces
Or maybe it’s our height that gives you fright
Whatever it is our people will always be alright
For the past 300 years we have had to fight
Nothing has ever been easy for us
We weren’t even allowed at the front of the bus
What have we done to deserve this?
I wish there was a way we could reverse this

 

By Chyna Colon

 

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