Class

When I was born We were Negroes Free, living like slaves In rundown tenements Jailed daily On the 'Colored' side Pictures of "Southern Fruit Swinging From Poplar Trees" Were placed on postcards And sold for a penny. When I was twenty We were African Americans There were colored bathrooms Separate water faucets in the park Hangings Were less popular We could live In many neighborhoods but Flaming crosses often Burned our lawns As bricks crashed through windows To land on our beds As we slept. When I was thirty We were Black Could go to any bathroom Drink from any faucet Hangings went underground Crosses became passé But our leaders were assassinated And our children were called "niggers" In the institutes of learning To teach them their place Until old enough for jail. Today we are proud to be black Even when dragged Til beheaded Behind a pickup truck for sport Shot dead wearing a hoodie Carrying tea and Skittles Shot dead playing loud music Sitting in the back seat. Seems we failed to read America’s definition of 'black' In Webster’s Dictionary Before we became proud Then we'd understand why We're guilty until proven innocent.