And I Cannot Accept It......

You just cannot tell me To respect the men in blue When I'm still a runaway, Post-slave to the system Still a blooded Indian Still a blooded African Still the 'other American in their eyes. When my skin is targeted Like an animal to poachers Isn't it rather sick when you think about it? Having to remain calm While facing a pistol inches from the end of your life? Isn't it sane? Isn't it sane? That's why you can't tell me shit, I'm still the rebel on the other side of the fence.. Hugging trees, bonding with nature Just in case they the trees to lynch my soul My hands forming a relationship with a bat and a gun In case both batons and guns decide to go against me. I hope to rally the reservations Rally the ghettos and the swamps Rally the graveyards and hidden graves... Under parks, homes, and luxurious structures... Put up a fight to make things fair... But I won't put up to a so-called soothing voice, Telling to relax, chill, and to remain calm, I was never a slave, So yes sir, no sir, and thank you sir... Are out of the question Questionable when those men in blue, Aren't even sirs at all. Nonstop bullets, and secret lynchings Nonstop veterans turning into zombies Nonstop brown faces becoming the target..l Yet we are to remain picking cotton As they walk by.... I just can't..... I can't fake it too long. -Armaan