Black Insecurities

Growing up, I've always hated my voice I loved to talk though If someone recorded me and played it back That camera out there hands I'd probably smack First my mouth, then my posture From others I'd turn to ponder What they called gay, the grown ups called proper The others treated me with shame, so I hid from those monsters People said my braids made me look like Bow Wow When the salon was closed, my mom pulled my hair back into a puff My facial features were still delicate, I didn't look too tough I then feared school, the kids would look at me and devour Nowadays the world doesn't call me gay, my new name is Oreo I'm that privileged black kid smiling in many photos Police brutality... I've only made friends with cops And when I get my diploma, I'll become another American robot Yo, I'm capable of living white man's dreams After success, I'll blow these radical liberals to smithereens I say Americans are being distracted by this non-progressive movement called GLAS But America is getting worse for the underprivileged blacks What if I said, despite my accomplishments, I've mostly wanted to be accepted by more black folk They've always stared awkwardly and kept distance like smoke I can't help to feel silenced, when my own revoke Are my lungs not powerful enough to spit true hope? I'm sorry if my African traits are not dominant enough to intimidate Can I not eliminate issues, because my voice is too light? Do I look too thin to fight, because pit bulls are small and have bite? If I can run fast, jump high, not bruise, where big shoes, and wake up under the sun feeling recharged and not reddish-ly marked, Please drop your mental guard of wires barbed around your narrow minds, because..... we are the same kind.