You told me
You told me the blacker the berry the sweeter the juice.
But now I realize that not everybody has the same taste.
So your eyes partake of my identity and you spit me out of your mouth and exclaim
“you were left in the oven for way too long.”
Let me be clear, my skin is not medium rare,
but because I am well done, it is perceived that I must succumb to do everything the opposite way.
And because I do not have a single red bone in my body
my reputation must be beaten until the white ones are able to be seen .
Let me be clear, I am the darker brother.
I too wish to sing America.
But you only let me sing 3/5ths of the verse
Simply because of the fact that we have different hues.
You use brown paper bags as tools to build my value as a human.
Only to make like dj jazzy jeff and break it down.
I stick my hand out in salutation
but you’d rather leave me hangin by the trees of poplar
Because my pigment isn’t as popular.
the blacker the berry the sweeter my fruit
but in reality i look quite stragne to you
You assume that my brothers are dead lying on the streets
While our fathers ghost like bengal tigers because they cannot bear the responsibility of children.
This ladies and gentlemen is a perception of the darker skinned brother.
But notice how I did not say, the perception.
So let there be hope.