And No One Sees...

What happens when caps and gowns become funeral garments to the mourning?

Eulogies being given by the Valedictorian

To a student body adorned by honor’s sashes tear stained

Bleeding on pins and awards

Glistening on this sad solemn sunny Wednesday morning

Crying for a fallen classmate

 

In New York, the same kids you hooped with

Can become ghosts by the evening news

Walking past these street lights to see their faces

LifeTouch Photography illuminated children
smiling brightly in their school uniform pictures

Street light shrines of
Teddy bears and rosaries

Saints and the Virgin Mother bleeding
from a flame’s cry

And single mothers teary eyed,

Holding on to her surviving children

 

I was taught from young

Kids that looked like me, die early

When born in poverty

Lucky to see 18

Home free at 21

I’m 20 years now

Sweat trickling down my cheek

Whenever cops ask me for my name

Pushed against the wall while reachin’ for his gun

Matching descriptions

But a honors graduate from Clara Barton High School
With a Vision Tech Certification and a Regents diploma  

But back in my school days being trained for this
 

I came from a school where the student body is 98% minority

Pat downs, wands, Metal detector screening

Checking for weapons between

Belt buckles, aglets

Bra straps and back packs

I bet Columbine and Sandy hook wished they had this

What they give these spigga children in the inner city

“Spiggas”

That’s what teachers called us

What happens when you mix Blacks and Latins together in classrooms

Screaming “These niggas! These Spics! You Nigga Spics-Spiggas aint worth shit!”

While she sleeps in the classroom

New York State babysitting the vagabonding nonsense

Trained to drain our ambition

So it’s no wonder why many drop out to get swallowed by the

Prison Industrial Complex

And for some, fitted for caskets

 

But you expect me to spit to these kids to stay in school

When America uses these institutions as a tool

For conditioning

New age slaves

Controlling our population with

Guns

Narcotics

And military aspirations

They will spend billions on war

But a few million on education

And no one sees the connection

And no one sees the connection
And no one…

Sees…

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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