Being Black..

Why is being black feeling more like a curse

Every day it get worse and worse 

I hate the feeling when white women tuck their purse 

Ouch momma, my hair is nappy that hurts 

And I hate how everyone whisper when I walk into church 

Sometimes I just want burst

Look another black men riding in a hearse

So much pain it don’t even hurt 

But being black is also  blessing

Taught me many valuable lessons

Cantu and cocoa butter are my best friends 

And i love candy yams on thanksgiving 

And the way granny make her butter milk fried chicken 

Don’t even get me started on my brown eyes 

When the light hits and they start to shine 

Being black isn’t such a crime

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community

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